


The Birthday Dare

by Greenie (hidetheteaspoons)



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: Birthday Dares, Birthday night out, Boat Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, I'm on a boat, Max is in on it, Mentions of donkeys, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Mysterious birthday presents, Porn with Feelings, Robin and her squad, Robin in a LBD, Robin needs a shag, So does Strike, Strike in a suit, Strike spends the night, Strike walks Robin home, Strike's got it bad, Vaginal Fingering, Wet!Strike, What's in the damn envelope?, boat smut, sexy texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27072898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hidetheteaspoons/pseuds/Greenie
Summary: On a night out with her friends to celebrate her 31st birthday, Robin takes on a dare that could change everything. Takes place one year after the ending of Troubled Blood.
Relationships: Ilsa Herbert & Cormoran Strike, Ilsa Herbert/Nick Herbert, Nick Herbert & Cormoran Strike, Robin Ellacott & Ilsa Herbert, Robin Ellacott & Max Priestwood, Robin Ellacott & Michelle Greenstreet, Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike, Vanessa Ekwensi & Robin Ellacott
Comments: 111
Kudos: 181
Collections: Happy Birthday Robin Venetia Ellacott | 2020





	1. With Love Always

The day began like any other Friday in October; the morning brought with it rain and a blustery chill. Robin shivered as she shrugged off the warm duvet and her bare feet landed on the wooden floor. She padded over to the window and pulled back the curtain. Blue-gray light poured into the room and she pulled her dressing robe tighter to dispel the goosebumps that had formed on her skin. After observing the rain for a moment, she gathered her towels and headed to go shower and prepare for the day. 

Following a long, scalding hot shower, Robin donned her most comfortable jeans and favorite blue sweater. She didn’t want anything to feel different today. After turning thirty the year prior, thirty-one was just another day. All she wanted was to go to work, conduct surveillance, and enjoy a night out with her girlfriends later that evening. She’d hoped that Pat wouldn’t make a fuss over her, but that was like expecting snow in the summer. Robin sighed and went on with her morning, actually indulging in breakfast and coffee for once before donning her Wellies and slicker and heading for the tube. 

It was an uneventful ride from the flat she shared with her roommate, Max, and his graying Dachshund, Wolfgang. She spent most of the time catching up on work emails and replying to birthday texts from friends and family. Her mother would be coming down from Yorkshire on Sunday to take her to dinner. Glancing at her texts, she smiled when she saw a message from Strike.

_Busy day today. I’m on Two Times new girl and you get your pick of Kingpin or Doctor Horrible. Barclay gets leftovers. See you in a bit. C x._

Though it was work-related, she couldn’t help the flips in her stomach at the thought of her partner - no - her best mate, thinking of her. The kiss at the end did nothing to quell the butterflies. Robin was curious if he would remember her birthday and if so, how he would top last year. Not that she cared - as long as he didn’t get her flowers. She rolled her eyes at the memory of Strike bringing her stargazer lilies two years prior. Thank God she wouldn’t have to deal with that again.

Warmed at thoughts of Cormoran, she allowed her mind to drift, thinking of him all the more. Their relationship had evolved significantly since the previous year, when they’d had one of their worst rows and subsequently made up, had one dark, whisky-fueled, intimate conversation in their shared office, and solved probably their most interesting case to date. They’d finally evolved from work partners to something more. What were they, exactly? Well, that was a bit of a gray area. On her last birthday, Strike had treated Robin to a lovely signed card and balloon, a brand new perfume, a night of champagne at the Ritz, and a kiss on the cheek. Oddly enough, she could still pinpoint the exact spot on which Strike’s lips had met her skin. 

Physical contact between the two of them hadn't changed, but when they did touch on occasion, the things that Robin felt were amplified significantly. Whether it was a brush of Strike’s hand against her arm in an effort to silently gain her attention, a supportive arm around her when they walked to the tube station together, or a pull of her hand to help her up. It was undeniable; she wondered if Strike felt it too.

Robin leaned her head against the window and sighed, waiting for her carriage to carry her to the castle at Denmark St.

***

While waiting for Robin to come to the office, Pat and Strike put the finishing touches on Robin’s desk, each individually ensuring that her birthday was just as special as she was. 

Pat had placed a deep Fuschia-colored orchid in a hand-painted pot covered with tiny flying robins on her desk, mumbling something to the effect of, “She never said _I_ couldn’t get her flowers.” Meanwhile, Strike sat on his side of the desk, attempting to sign Robin’s birthday card with something that would sound even better than the previous year’s card. Chewing on the nib of his pen, he was at a loss for words and threw the pen down with a frustrated sigh. The card he’d gotten her had been perfect. He’d carried on the tradition of donkeys, with it being a running joke between the two of them ever since their trip to Skegness the summer before last. The front of the card was a ridiculous picture of a braying donkey that appeared to be smiling, while the inside read “Hope your birthday is as badass as you are!” He hoped it’d bring a smile to her face until he could give her his real gift later on. 

After a few moments of simply staring at the card and his partner’s empty desk, he heard a _ping_ from his phone and smiled at Robin’s name lighting up the screen. She’d responded to his text. 

_I’ll take Kingpin. Need a little excitement today. On the tube now, be there shortly. R x._

Cormoran smiled to himself, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. It had been an interesting year for the agency, especially for the two partners. Strike had finally allowed himself to admit that he had feelings for Robin. After all they’d been through over the past five years - crazy exes, health scares, complex cases, and their first, and worst row yet, he’d come to realize that he was nothing without her. That isn’t to say that he solely existed because of Robin, but he wasn’t sure that he could exist without her. Somehow, between all the road trips, the long nights on surveillance, and the meals and drinks they'd shared, he’d fallen desperately and wanted to take the next step with her, more than anything. But he held back, unsure if she felt the same way. There were certainly moments when he’d felt something shift between them...

One thing that gave Strike hope was that Robin had yet to, at least to his or Ilsa’s knowledge, return permanently to the dating scene. Strike vowed that for as long as she remained single, as would he. He missed sex, but he didn’t miss the meaninglessness of one-night stands or the messy entanglements of women that he had no long-term interest in. So, when needs must, Strike took matters into his own hands, both literally and figuratively. He found himself thinking of his partner - her golden hair, her soft curves, her feisty attitude, her - _fuck_ he was getting hard. Willing his libido to tone it down, he focused on writing his message to Robin and sealed the envelope, setting it beside her other gifts. She had a card from Andy, a box of chocolates from Barclay (a running joke in the agency), and a few assorted packages that he assumed were from her girlfriends. 

As if he’d thought her into existence, Strike heard a _bang_ of the front door and Robin greeting Pat in her usual cheery voice. The two women spent a few moments conversing before Robin entered the partners’ office, smiling. Her cheeks were flushed pink from what Strike assumed was a cold walk from the tube station. Her hair was surprisingly dry, though staticky from her beanie. He smiled as he took her in, Wellies and all. She had worn a form-fitting blue sweater that did little to help his libido, but he ignored it the best he could. He stood up and rounded the corner of their desk, walking closely toward her. He stopped short of reaching her and paused. “You look lovely,” he said, unthinking. Robin blushed but held her gaze to him. He grasped her elbow and pulled her slightly closer to him, bending his head so he could kiss her on the cheek. “Happy Birthday, Robin,” he smiled as he pulled away, never taking his eyes from hers. 

“Thanks, Cormoran,” she replied, wishing she didn’t have to pull away from him just yet. She distracted herself from the feel of his lips by peering around him to see the pile of gifts and cards on her desk. “What’s all this?” she asked.

“Just a few things from all of us, and some other packages I suspect are from your friends?”

“Mmm, probably so. Okay for me to check all this out later? I’m afraid I’m already in work mode.” 

Strike shrugged. “It’s your day, do as you like.”

She nodded and made herself comfortable at the computer. “Alright, so you’re on T.T.’s girl, I’ll take Kingpin and we’ll let Barclay have Dr. H. What else is on the rota for today?”

“Well, I’m on the new girl until Andy takes over at two, then I’m headed to a new client meeting in Camden. Hope to come back to the office to make some calls after. What about you?”

“I’ve got Kingpin until noon, I think. Then I'm going to meet with the assistant who worked with him. Michelle will take over for me while I’m at the meeting. Then if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to skive off a bit early so I can prepare for tonight.”

“Oh? Who’s the lucky guy?” Cormoran asked, grinning slightly.

“Oh bugger off,” Robin responded with a smile of her own. “I’m not going on a date on my _birthday_ you daft idiot. I’m only going out for drinks with the girls.”

“Ah,” Strike commented, smiling. “Well, if I don’t see you before then, have a fun time. Let me know when you’ve opened your card.” 

“Can I open it now?” 

“Well yeah, I just thought...you said work and all.”

“Gotta open a card from my best mate, don’t I?” she replied, echoing his sentiments from the year prior.

“Yeah, you do.”

With that, she reached for the teal envelope and smiled, slotting her finger into the side flap of the envelope to slice it open. She shivered when she realized that it was still slightly damp and that Cormoran’s tongue had been where her finger was, only moments before her arrival at the office.

Robin snorted slightly at the image of an adorable donkey on the front of the card, with his teeth on full display. She opened the card, and her smile fell into something more of an awed look. Strike could tell by her expression that she was reading his message.

**Hope your birthday is as badass as you are!**

**__** _To my partner, my best mate, and the strongest woman I know. You deserve all the good things the universe has to offer, and I hope you never forget that._

_With love always,_

_Corm x_

Robin swiped at her eyes, which were watery and somehow, even bluer than usual. Cormoran wanted to look away to save her the awkwardness, but he couldn’t bear to _not_ look at her. Her features softened and she whispered, “Thank you, Cormoran.” She wanted to say...and do...so much more, but now was not the time. Duty called for both of them and at that moment, Cormoran rose to leave. 

Though they were going their separate ways, he couldn’t resist being near her, one more time. As he approached, he leaned down to kiss the top of her head, her hair smelling faintly of freshness and flowers. “Have a good rest of the day, Robin.”

She nodded silently and watched him leave, relishing in the sweet domesticity of the moment. How she wished they could be so much more to each other. Maybe, in time, it would come to that. Maybe one day they could be everything their exes had never been to each other. But for now, Robin was happy with the way things were...or so she thought…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr @hidetheteaspoons or @thegreendress!


	2. So Many Knives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin and Michelle have a chat, which leads Robin to examine the possibilities that a future with Cormoran might hold.

The day passed much more quickly than Robin anticipated. She followed Kingpin around London for three hours before meeting the agency’s newest subcontractor, Michelle Greenstreet, for a quick tea and debrief at a nearby cafe. Michelle was a short, blond woman in her late thirties. She was quiet, but she and Robin had bonded instantly. Like Robin, Michelle was the only sister of three brothers. Michelle had been with the police for eight years before transitioning to the agency. Michelle’s wife, Jessica, frequently came to the agency to have lunch and Robin had gotten to know the couple very well over the past year. So well in fact, that they would be joining Robin’s birthday outing that evening. Jessica had just found out that she was pregnant with the couple’s first child and had agreed to chauffeur Robin and anyone else for a ride if needed. 

“Hiya,” Robin greeted, as Michelle sat at Robin’s table and removed her jacket and scarf, eagerly reaching for the hot tea Robin had ordered for her.

“Hey,” Michelle responded. “How’s our friend today?”

“Oh, about the same I’d say. You know how he is.”

“That, I do. How’s your day been so far? Did Corm get you anything this year?”

Robin laughed, remembering that this was the first birthday she’d had in which Michelle had been with the agency. She nodded, “He did. Gave me a lovely card and I suspect something else will come later if Ilsa has anything to do with it.”

Michelle hesitated, “So when are you two…?” 

“STOP already, will you? You sound like Ilsa. And my mother. And Van,” Robin protested, mockingly rolling her eyes.

Michelle threw her hands up in resignation. “Sorry, sorry! Can’t help it! You can cut the tension between you two with...so many knives,” Michelle laughed. “You know Barclay says…”

“Nope, no, stop right there. Please. I don’t want to know what Barclay says, because I’m sure nothing good can come of it.” 

“Alright, fair enough,” Michelle consented. “So where are we going tonight?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Ilsa refused to tell me,” Robin told her. 

“You don't seem too keen,” Michelle said, noting the hint of disappointment on Robin's face.

“No, I am. Just feeling rather miserable about the fact that I’m over thirty now, I guess. I’m not quite where I thought I’d be for turning thirty-one,” Robin replied drearily.

“You’ll get there, Robin. I have no doubt in my mind. Especially if you keep showing up Strike on all these cases. The Met may come and steal you away,” she joked. 

“Never!” Robin cried, though was flattered by her friend’s suggestion. 

“At the very least, maybe Strike will add your name to the door.”

“Now there’s an idea,” Robin replied, and briefly allowed her mind to consider the sound of “Strike and Ellacott, Detective Agency.” It had a nice ring to it. Pushing the thought aside, Robin denied. “No, he’d never do something that...permanent…”

Her mind was then taken back to five years prior when the word ‘permanent’ had first crossed her lips in a conversation with her partner. She’d only been a temp then, but had wanted to remain at the job more than she’d wanted anything in a long time. Even if she knew ahead of time that taking the job would have resulted in the destruction of her marriage, she would have taken it all the same. No hesitation. Now, five years later, she was a permanent, if not founding fixture at the agency. She’d built up a career, a reputation, and a knack for undercover disguises.

“Robin?” Michelle’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Don’t you have lunch with the assistant?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. You’re right. I’d better get going.” Clearing her empty cup, Robin donned her rain gear and bade her goodbyes to Michelle, until they were reunited later that evening. 

Robin caught the tube to yet another cafe in Soho where she was scheduled to meet an assistant that had worked for their mark a few years prior. After two hours of questions and conversation, Robin came away with little more info than she’d started with. Sighing, she considered returning to the office but thought better of it. It was now two in the afternoon and the sun was beginning to peek through the gray clouds above. If she timed it right, she would be able to catch the tube back to her flat, get a quick kip in, and shower and dress before meeting everyone at seven. 

The return ride from Soho to the flat was just as uneventful as the morning’s ride, though no less filled with thoughts of her partner. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to fantasize about her name on the door and the two of them - Strike and Ellacott - running the business together. On occasion, she had allowed her mind to wander to other places that involved things much less appropriate than their working relationship. These imaginings involved hands and lips and touching. So much touching. 

Robin hadn’t been touched by another man in nearly three years. Sure, there had been the occasional Tinder dates, blind dates, and flirtations at the pub, but they never went beyond the first few meetings. Whenever anyone tried to get close to her, Robin would freeze up and cut them off, giving some kind of reason why she couldn’t continue the relationships. Nine times out of ten, her excuse was work and the little free time that she had due to the long hours involved. She of course never mentioned the ambiguous feelings she had toward her partner. Even she didn’t know what to do with that information. 

At times, she found herself wondering what it would be like to run her hands through his hair or kiss the stubble on his face, or press herself against him. _God_ she needed a shag, and quick. To do any of these things would cross the invisible line they’d drawn between them years ago, back when Robin was still with Matthew. Robin wanted nothing more than to stick two fingers up to the line and throw caution to the wind. 

Upon arriving at her stop, Robin was jolted back to reality and exited the tube. She meandered the few minutes walk to her flat, head filled with a cloud of work and Cormoran, and her birthday and Cormoran, and her chronic state of loneliness and Cormoran. Shaking her head, Robin was greeted at the door by a whining Wolfgang, who was begging to be taken out. Though Dachshunds were notorious for hating the rain, he never gave Robin a problem when it was time to go for a walk. Following a brief walk to the corner and back, Robin returned to the flat and hastened to her bedroom. She placed her phone on the charger and set an alarm before settling into bed. Wolfgang climbed the wooden dog stairs and settled himself in for a nap by her feet, Robin smiled as she was reminded of her own graying Chocolate Labrador, Rowntree, and how he would curl up in bed with her, no matter how little room there was available for him. Robin drifted off to sleep with thoughts of what kind of dog Strike might like to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr @hidetheteaspoons or @thegreendress!


	3. Bloody Fortune Cookie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strike and Nick meet for a drink at the pub.

Strike headed to the Royal Star Pub at quarter to seven to meet Nick, who had warned him to dress to impress. He assumed that Nick was taking on the role of “wingman” for the evening. Strike had donned dark trousers and a crisp light blue dress shirt, along with a casual gray suit jacket. He’d done the best he could with his mop of curly, messy hair, but it more or less had a mind of its own. Strike met Nick outside the pub and gave him their usual friendly handshake and brief clap on the back before the pair headed inside. 

They were greeted by an eye-catching young blond woman who led them to a table at the very back of the room. Strike noticed her glancing a little too hard at each man’s third finger. He saw her pout slightly upon noticing the glinting band Nick wore, but perked up a bit upon seeing Strike’s bare hand. She gazed at Strike knowingly, and he was ninety-nine percent sure that she knew who he was. 

“What’ll you have tonight?” she asked, leaning over slightly, giving Strike and Nick a view of her ample breasts. As Strike placed an order for a whisky, he suppressed a smile upon seeing his friend stare at the ceiling above in order to avoid looking at things that married men shouldn’t look at. Though unmarried, Strike too averted his eyes, out of respect for himself and the young woman.

“So what’s the deal with you?” Nick asked Strike, directing his gaze from the server that had brought them their drinks as she walked away from the table. 

“Oh you know, got a few cases in right now. Still working for that creepy bastard Two-Times and Robin’s been tailing this mobster for the past few days…”

“I don’t mean work, Corm, I mean with you and Robin?”

Strike nearly aspirated on his whisky, so much so that he had to cough in order to expel the fiery liquid from his lungs. “What do you mean what’s with me and Robin?”

“Well, have you talked to her yet?”

“Of course I bloody haven't. Do I really need to be taking chances when I don’t have any idea what the outcome will be?”

“Isn’t that the point of taking chances, because you don’t know what’s going to happen?”

Strike sputtered again in surprise, “You sound like a bloody fortune cookie,” he said, smiling. 

“Alright, alright,” Nick caved. “But seriously, when are you going to make your move?”

Strike leaned back in his seat, eyeing his friend with disdain. “You’re relentless, you know it? You’re as bad as your wife,” Strike chuckled. 

“Don’t compare me to her. Have you met that woman? She’s yours and Robin’s number one...what is it she calls it? Ship-something. When you want two people to get together? I don’t bloody know, something she read on the internet, I’m sure. Anyway, I don’t mean to pressure you, but Robin isn’t going to be single forever y’know.”

“I thought you said you didn’t mean to pressure me?” Cormoran retorted before downing the rest of his whisky in one go. “If we’re going to keep talking about this, I’m going to need a lot more alcohol in me.” He signaled to the blond for another drink. She was clearly put off by his lack of interest in her...or her anatomy. 

“So what’d you do for Robin for her birthday?”

“Oh, fuck…” Strike responded, “It’s Robin’s birthday?”

“Oggy, don’t tell me you forgot!”

“Fuck no, I didn’t forget! I’ll never fucking forget!” Cormoran responded hotly, practically offended by his friend’s insinuation. “Forgetting caused the worst row we’ve ever had. I don’t want that to happen again. No, I was planning on surprising her later. Taking her out for a night on the town again, hopefully tomorrow.

“Yeah?” Nick asked, somewhat surprised. “You sure you’re not dating?”

Strike shook his head and muttered, “Sod off!” 

Nick threw his hands up in resignation, “Sorry, sorry. It’s just...you’re surprising her, taking her out…”

“Can we change the subject, please?”

“Well, we could, but…” Nick’s answer faded when he looked down at the glow of his phone lighting up on the table. “Hang on, it’s Ils. Let me just,” he looked at Strike and gestured toward the door to indicate that he was going to take the call and Cormoran nodded his understanding. He watched as Nick pressed his phone to his ear and his hand to the opposite ear in an effort to hear over the din of the pub.

The blond returned in no time. Strike had been watching her out of the corner of his eye and noticed that she’d been circling their table like a hawk all night. She was likely going to go in for the ‘kill’ so to speak now that Nick had left, but Cormoran was prepared. 

As if on cue, she sidled up to Strike, getting as close to him as would be considered proper, given that he was a complete stranger and she was on duty. “Can I get you anything else, love?” she cooed, her voice low and sultry and all the things that Strike used to like to hear. “Something to make you forget whatever girl has broken your heart?

Cormoran smiled and shook his head. “No, thank you. We’ll actually just be needing the bill, please.” 

“It’s on the house,” she said, batting her lashes at him. “You that famous detective?”

“I’m a detective,” he replied, “I don’t know about famous.”

“Well I do. You’re all over the papers and the BBC. Sure I can’t convince you to stick around til I get off? I’m done in an hour.”

“Afraid not, sorry. I’m due somewhere a little later and can’t miss it. But thank you, for the drinks.”

“That girl you work with...Raven is it?”

Strike cringed inwardly. _‘Right letter, right species, wrong name,’_ he thought. “Er, it’s Robin actually…”

“You fancy her?” 

“I might.”

“Ah...that explains it. Well, she’s a lucky girl then, your Raven. Hope she treats you right.” 

“Thanks…” Strike begrudgingly replied.

At that moment, Nick returned with a panicked look on his face. 

“What is it?” Strike asked, knowing immediately that something was wrong.

“That was Robin...she called from Ilsa’s phone. Says Ilsa’s dizzy, thinks she might be having a migraine. We gotta go.”

With that, Strike nodded his thanks to the blond. She waved in return, and Strike and Nick left to go flag down a taxi.


	4. Givers and Takers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin celebrates her birthday on a night out with her squad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is the last complete chapter I have for this fic! Updating may slow down at this point, but I will try to keep up. Hope you enjoy this EXTRA long chapter with a cliffhangerish ending. Bonus points if you catch the reference to my other OTP in this one. 
> 
> No beta for this one, so as always, mistakes are my own. Sorry in advance.

After waking up from her nap, Robin had showered and gotten dressed, curled her hair, and applied her makeup a little more liberally than usual. She chose a black dress that she’d been saving for a special occasion. The day she received payment from Matthew, she splurged on one thing that made her feel good, and it was this dress. It was more than she would normally spend on clothing, but after two years of divorce negotiations, she deserved it. Now, the dress had been sitting in her closet for more than a year, and she could finally wear it.

Her mind flitted briefly back to the day she’d bought it, wandering through the store, thinking about her life and all the things that had happened. She had thought about Strike, and how he might look at her in this particular dress. Now, as she stood in front of the mirror, it was even better than the day she’d tried it on in the store. It had thin straps and a low v-cut in the front that accentuated her chest nicely. The waistline sat high and revealed a long, flowing skirt that stopped mid-shin. A slit on the left side of the skirt stopped just short of her thigh. She added a pair of strappy heels and gold earrings she’d received from her parents earlier in the week. Between the sexy dress, the high heels, and the smoky makeup, Robin felt that she looked better than she had in a long time. She felt bold, confident, and sexy. In fact, if for any reason she saw Strike in this dress, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep herself in check. Of course she knew that wouldn’t be happening, but it was still nice to consider. 

Her phone pinged as she was smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress, signaling that Jessica and Michelle had arrived. She patted Wolfgang on the head and made her way to the car. Hopping in the back seat, Robin greeted her friends enthusiastically. 

‘Thanks for the ride, I appreciate it!”

“Robinnnnnn!” Michelle called happily over her shoulder. “Happ Biirthdayy R’bin!” 

Robin’s eyes grew wide when she realized what was happening. “Really? Already, Michelle?”

At that, Jessica turned to look at Robin and smiled. “Happy Birthday, Robin. Our present to you is drunk Michelle. She can stay at yours tonight.”

“NAH I can’t do that, love!” Michelle cried, gently stroking her wife’s face. She then whispered, not even a little quietly, _“She’s gonna be gettin’ HANDSY with Corm tonight!”_

At this, Robin gasped and Michelle saw the look of horror on her face and laughed. Jessica’s head whirled around quickly to look at Robin to get confirmation or denial of Michelle’s statement. Robin immediately threw up her hands in mock misunderstanding. “I have no idea what she’s on about, but the alcohol has gone straight to her head. What’s she had?”

“You don’t wanna know,” Jessica replied, groaning. “We’ve already been to two pubs. I’m running out of patience...a girl can only take so much club soda.”

“How are you feeling, Jess?” Robin asked, kindly remembering about the couple’s happy news.

“Bit better than last week. The morning sickness has subsided the past few days, but it comes and goes. Don’t worry though, I’m feeling alright tonight.”

“I’m so glad,” Robin replied. “Now, where are we going? 

Jessica responded, “This one here,” she gestured to Michelle, “Kept the plans under lock and key. I didn't even know where we were going until today.”

“We’re going to Thirst!” Michelle informed Robin.

“Sounds perfect. Thank you both, really. This year was starting to not feel very special, but you’ve changed that.” 

The group fell into a comfortable silence as they made their way to their destination. They found parking on a narrow side street and walked two blocks to the cocktail bar. Vanessa and Ilsa were already there and waiting at a large table with extra chairs. Robin noticed a large glass of white wine at one of the seats. 

“This for me?” she joked, knowing that her friends had set her up to be a queen for the evening. She wasn’t at all surprised when Vanessa placed a plastic tiara on her head and a glittery boa around her neck before Robin took her seat at the head of the table. She slipped out of her coat and placed it on the chair behind her, which earned several mocking wolf whistles from her girl gang. 

Robin felt ridiculous, but loved her friends, so she smiled and everyone sat down at the table. She looked up to find four sets of eyes on her, all waiting expectantly. 

“Well?” Ilsa led, staring at Robin.

“Well, what?” Robin asked, knowing very well what they were after. 

“What did Corm get you? He hasn’t told Nick or me anything.”

“He got me a sweet card so far,” Robin recalled the braying donkey and the handwritten message inside. _With love always, Corm x._

“She’s got a look about her,” Vanessa commented before taking a greedy sip of her wine. “What’s he written in it? Go on…”

Robin felt herself blush and waved a hand in the air, “Oh, it’s nothing really. Just a generic ‘Happy Birthday’ message.”

Michelle, who was still wildly drunk, stood up and dramatically pointed a finger at Robin. “She lies!”

Ilsa snickered before putting on a serious face. “Really, Robin. You’re among friends here. Won’t you tell us what he wrote to you? We all know he’s got the hots for you anyway. Trust me. I’ve seen that man when he thought he was ‘in love.’ He’s much more certain of himself with you than I’ve seen with anyone else. It’s real and genuine, Robin.”

Robin opened her mouth to respond, but closed it again. She closed her eyes, but internally stuck two fingers up to The Line. “He wrote that I’m the strongest woman he knows, and that I deserve everything ‘the universe has to offer,’ which felt very un-Cormoran-like. He signed off ‘With love always.’” 

Expecting a sarcastic chorus of ‘awws’ and unrelenting teasing, Robin was surprised when she was met with silence and four pairs of eyes that continued to stare at her. 

“Er...what?” Robin asked, hesitantly.

Ilsa was the first to speak, shaking her head slightly. “Nothing, just, wasn’t expecting that is all. He really is a decent bloke when he wants to be.”

“That really is a lovely sentiment, Robin,” Jessica piped up as she took a sip of her club soda.

“Does he have a brother?” Vanessa replied, jokingly. 

“Several, actually. And they’re all wankers,” Robin bit back her disgust at the Rokeby siblings and set her wine glass on the table a little harder than she meant to. “Can I have more wine, please?”

After flagging down their waiter, the group ordered another round of drinks. The conversation quickly turned to work, significant others, and plans for the future. By the time the next round arrived, the group had a nice buzz going and Robin felt light and happy. She was in a beautiful restaurant, with brilliant friends, and rocking the hottest dress she owned, aside from the poison green dress that remained hidden in the back of her closet. 

Three drinks slowly bled into four and somehow, the conversation turned back to relationships and sex. Robin was the only single woman at the table, and therefore felt that she, very clearly, had the biggest right to complain. “I mean really...wassa girl gotta do to get some dick around here?” she asked, rather loudly, causing the group to explode with laughter. 

“You think ‘m jokin’? Girls, it has been a Very. _Very._ Long. Time,” she continued, punctuating each word with a slight nod of her head. 

“How long, exactly?” Ilsa asked, her shrieks of laughter subsiding into fits of giggles. 

Robin lowered her voice so that only their table could hear. “I haven’t been with anyone since Matthew,” she said quietly.

Vanessa and Ilsa both let out gasps, while Jessica and Michelle simply gave Robin a look of pity. “Robin, really? You need a shag like two and a half years ago. You really haven’t gotten with anyone?” Vanessa asked. 

“No, I bloody haven’t. I think I’d know if I had, wouldn’t I? Trust me, I’m sure there are cobwebs down there.”

Ilsa let out a drunken snort, but continued where Vanessa had left off. “You know, Corm…” 

“I’m going to stop you righhh there, my friend,” Robin slurred, as she slowly turned to face Ilsa. “There is _nothing_ happn’in between Strike and I, and there never will be. That’s just how s’ gotta be. It’d ruin everything, I think.”

“You think?” Michelle asked, surprisingly jumping headfirst into the conversation about Robin’s love life.

“I dunno...” the detective sighed, slumping back into her chair. 

“It could ruin everything...but...he’s clearly ruined you…” Michelle continued.

“Whaddya mean?” Ilsa asked, curious about where the line of conversation was going.

“What I mean is, you haven’t had a long-term relationship in three years. You’ve gone on however many dates with however many guys -” Robin made a face at this - “No, I’m not accusing you. There’s _nothing_ wrong with how you’re dating. You have to do what works for you, but he’s ruined you for _all_ other men. Don’t you think that maybe some part of you is holding out for Cormoran and that none of the others have measured up?”

Once again, silence filled the table and Robin couldn’t look Michelle in the eye. She was quiet for a moment, and no one breathed a word. “I suppose…”

“HA!” Ilsa screeched, throwing her hands up in the air. “I knew it!” 

Robin lowered her head to the table in embarrassment, while Vanessa rubbed circles on her back. “S’alright darling, we’ve all been there.” Robin’s head snapped up in an instant. “Wait - you’ve had a thing for Corm too?” she asked, confused. 

“GOD, no. I just mean that we’ve all been there, holding out hope for the one we can’t, or shouldn’t have.” 

“I think it’s always been Cormoran for you, though, Robs,” Ilsa chimed in. “I’ve known the man my whole life, and he’s never been with someone the way he is with you. He and Charlotte were...were...magnets and it was electric and fiery and whatever other adjectives you want to use. But they were also completely and totally wrong for each other. They had a give and take relationship and Cormoran was the giver, while Charlotte was the taker. But you and Corm...you’re both givers and I think that’s why you’d be so good together.”

Tears welled in Robin’s eyes briefly at Ilsa’s words. Never had her heart ached more for Cormoran than it had at that very second. Not even the day of her wedding, when they’d held onto each other for longer than they should have, or the day that she’d paced the white sandy beaches on her honeymoon and had called him to tell him that she’d made a mistake. 

Ilsa could tell that the alcohol and the feelings were becoming too much, and rubbed her friend’s back affectionately. “Cheer up, love. You’re young and beautiful and you have the rest of your life ahead of you. You don’t need a man to make you complete.”

“No, but a few orgasms wouldn’t hurt,” Robin countered, giggling once more. 

“Amen to that!” Vanessa agreed. 

At that moment, their waiter returned to the table to clear their drinks and offer dessert in the form of a decadent strawberry cheesecake with candles on top. Robin blew out her candles and secretly made a wish, which was followed closely by a toast from her friends. Robin took hers in the form of a club soda, like Jessica, in order to sober up before the ride home. The last thing she needed was to be sick in Michelle and Jessica’s car, or to have a hangover tomorrow. 

After the group had quieted down and begun to recover, Ilsa winced and lowered her head to the table, clearly in pain. 

“You alright, Ils?” Robin asked in a concerned tone.

“Mmmphh…” was all the sound that Ilsa could make. 

“Ilsa, what is it?” 

“Headache…” she mumbled, nearly unintelligible. 

“Come on, let’s go to the ladies,” Robin suggested, slowly urging her friend up by the arm and holding tightly to her, leading her in the direction of the loo. 

“Was it the drinks?” Robin asked as the door swung open and they entered the large single room.

“Don’t think so? Only had the wine, and I’ve had much more than that in the past and been just fine.” 

Robin, unsure how true this was, gave Ilsa a look of slight disbelief.

“When was the last time you drank like this?”

“Cornwall, Joan’s funeral last year. Got properly drunk at the pub like everyone else. It feels like a migraine coming on, honestly. I get this pain behind my eyes and get sensitive to light. I’ve been known to rock back and forth in the corner, just so you know. That might happen.” 

“Here,” Robin urged, wetting a paper towel with cool water and holding it to Ilsa’s forehead. “Do you need paracetamol?” 

“Bollocks! No, my medication is in my regular purse. I brought a different bag for tonight and completely forgot to switch it out. Nick has some on his keyring though.” 

“Okay, well do you feel like going back to the table? Come on, I’ll help you walk.” Ilsa nodded wearily and took Robin's arm. 

“I'm dizzy,” Ilsa told her as they made their way out of the loo. “I think I'm gonna be sick.”

With that, Ilsa turned around quickly and left Robin in her dust. Robin followed her friend and saw that Ilsa had dropped her purse just outside the door. Picking it up, Robin fished out Ilsa's phone. Upon hearing retching noises through the door, Robin called to Ilsa, “Want me to ring Nick?” 

After a few more moments of unpleasant sounds, the door opened and Ilsa nodded, somehow looking paler than Robin remembered her being only moments prior. “The code’s 0915.” The door quickly closed again and Robin opened Ilsa's phone to call Nick. 

After a hasty conversation, Robin informed Ilsa that her husband was on the way and would be there as soon as possible. When the vomiting had subsided, Ilsa exited the room and returned to Robin, seeming exhausted and spent.

With her arm around Ilsa’s waist, the pair slowly walked back to their table, Ilsa still with a damp cloth pressed to her forehead. She quickly downed a glass of water and leaned her head back against the chair.

“‘M sorry for ruining the night,” Ilsa apologized.

“Oh, bugger off. You haven’t ruined anything. It’s been a lovely evening and I couldn’t have asked for it to go better than this. So thank you for organizing it.”

Ilsa smiled through the fog of her headache. “We love ya Robs. But, you definitely need to get laid.” At this, Ilsa groaned once more and leaned down to put her head between her legs, in search of darkness to relieve her migraine. “Someone please distract me,” she pleaded.

“I have a solution,” Vanessa offered. 

Robin sighed. “Go on, I'm listening.”

“Next man that walks in the door, you've got to shag him.”

“What?! Oh absolutely not,” Robin cried in protest. 

“One free pass for case info if you do,” Vanessa teased. 

“Oh, you play dirty, Van. You'll really give us case info, no questions?”

“Only if you bed the next single guy that comes into this bar.”

Knowing she wouldn't be able to resist something to help the agency succeed, Vanessa reached out a hand to Robin, who shook it willingly. 

“Deal,” they both agreed. 

After twenty minutes of waiting, of groups coming and going, and of light chatter amongst their own group, Robin had almost forgotten about the deal she'd made with Vanessa. That is, until she saw the main door open out of the corner of her eye, bringing with it the form of a person she was all too familiar with. 


	5. Like Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected guest arrives and Robin's party is officially over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An EXTRA long chapter today! Happy Halloween! I'll be doing Nanowrimo for November, along with my 365 day drabble project, so I'm not sure when I'll update next, but I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to leave kudos and comments on this story. I'm truly enjoying writing it!
> 
> As always, please excuse any typos you may find :)

Nick Herbert walked into the bar and made a beeline for their table. Despite the business of the locale, he could pick his wife out of a crowd in an instant. That’s what happens when you’ve been together for twenty years - you get to know someone better than you even know yourself sometimes. Nick had left Strike outside to finish his cigarette while he checked on Ilsa. 

As he approached, Nick looked rather serious and hesitant at the same time. He found his wife slumped over in her seat, her head practically at her feet she was hunched over so far. He heard her groaning and knew at once that it was going to be a serious migraine.

Robin rubbed her friend’s back and murmured that her knight in shining armor had arrived. Under her breath, Robin also muttered something about “The first one” and “no shagging,” though Nick did his best to ignore whatever that meant.

As Ilsa raised her head to look at her husband, Nick realized that the happy buzz of women chattering had ceased from the table. Ilsa gazed toward the front door of the bar with her jaw slightly agape and Vanessa clapped a hand over her mouth. Both Michelle and her wife turned to see what had caused their reaction, while Robin was the last to look. Nick followed their gazes and saw Cormoran enter the bar, looking right at their group. 

At that moment, Nick saw Robin freeze and look directly at him. “Nick - you’re here with Strike?” 

“Yeah, is that okay? I was worried about Ilsa...we were having drinks so I didn’t think you’d mind if he came along…”

“ _Fuck,”_ he heard Robin swear under her breath. 

“That okay?” Nick asked, looking bewildered at her reaction.

“I’m sorry Nick, yes, yes of course it’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting to see him tonight...” she responded absentmindedly, looking down at her outfit. 

Nick nodded and turned his attention to his wife. He came around the side of the table and knelt beside her. He placed a hand on her cheek and left it there for a moment. “You need some meds, love?” 

Ilsa nodded and Nick pulled two small capsules from a pill container on his keyring and gave them to her, along with her glass of water that sat on the table. She knocked them back quickly and buried her face in her husband’s neck, in search of relief from the pain. 

“Best get you home, yeah? You’ll need to lie down once those kick in,” he suggested while running a hand through her hair. She nodded against him.

“Alrigh’ Ilsa?” A velvety soft voice asked from across the table.

Cormoran had made his way across the room and arrived at their table to inquire after his friend. Upon seeing that she was wrapped in Nick’s arms, his attention turned to the rest of the group. He nodded toward Vanessa, whom he hadn’t seen in a few months, then toward Michelle and Jessica before his eyes fell upon the most beautiful woman at the table - his Robin. 

Though he could only see the upper half of her, he couldn’t help but allow his eyes to travel over her perfect form. Her honey-dipped locks had been intricately curled and her makeup was darker than usual but no less pretty. She sported what he assumed to be a dress with barely-there straps and a neckline that hung low, low, low on her chest. The dark fabric contrasted against her alabaster skin and accentuated her figure in a pleasing way; not that her figure was ever _dis_ pleasing. 

He nodded and smiled in a way that made Robin’s stomach drop to the floor - his imperfect lips pulling over perfect teeth, giving her a signature half-smile. “Alright, birthday girl?” She shivered at his tone and his word choice...something about the casual nature in which he addressed her spoke of familiarity between the two of them that she’d never had with anyone else.

She nodded back, “Wasn’t expecting to see you here,” she practically purred. 

“Yeah, well, you know. My friend’s feeling a bit shit.” 

“ _Quite_ shit,” Ilsa interjected, her face still buried in Nick’s neck. “Shall we go and settle my bill, love?” she asked.

“Oggy, I hate to do this, but-” Nick started.

Strike immediately held his hand up. “Don’t even say it, mate. We’ll catch up later. Feel better, Ils,” he told his friend, kissing the top of Ilsa’s head.

“Don’t worry Corm, I’ve got the best nurse in all of London,” she smiled as Nick wrapped an arm around her back to support her. 

“Hey! That’s _Doctor_ to you, Mrs. Herbert.” 

“Whatever you say, Mr. Herbert.”

The couple smiled and waved to the group, with Ilsa giving Robin last-minute birthday well-wishes and once again apologizing for her ailment. Upon hugging her friend, Ilsa whispered quick and low in Robin’s ear: “Do your thing girl, they don’t call it a birthday suit for nothing.”

Robin’s jaw dropped and it was too late for her to clarify what Ilsa meant, but she blushed immediately and returned her gaze down to her hands. After a moment, she looked to Strike, who stood awkwardly by. “Well, why don’t you join us, then?” she offered, gesturing to Ilsa’s seat beside her. 

“You don’t mind? It was girl’s night, wasn’t it?” 

Robin smiled. “It was, and now it’s not.” 

Strike came around the table to sit beside Robin and as he did, she tried to subtly examine her partner. He looked incredible in blue, she’d always thought that. His name really fit his personality and his wardrobe. His shirt was light and very unlike him, though it reminded her of what she imagined a Cornwall sky to look like - the kind of blue that could easily be gray if the sun weren’t out. His dark trousers were nicely fitted and the gray suit jacket made him all the more handsome. She admired the way it stretched across his shoulders, not too loose, but not too tight; just tight enough to accentuate his strong biceps, which she wanted nothing more than to wrap herself in. Inwardly, Robin cursed herself for making eyes at her partner and did her best not to ogle him once he sat down next to her. 

“Want a drink?” She offered, ready to get the attention of their waiter. 

“I’ll get it, what’ll you have?” 

“Ah…” Robin hesitated, thinking that she’d better keep a clear head where Cormoran was concerned. After a moment’s decision, she tossed all her cares to the wind.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” she smiled as he stood up to head to the bar. He nodded and headed that direction. 

Meanwhile, Jessica yawned and placed an arm around her wife. “What about you my dear, have you had quite enough to drink?”

“Think so,” Michelle mumbled, resting her head against Jessica’s arm. 

“You’re leaving too?” Robin asked, her voice shaking slightly.

“Robin?” Michelle asked, “Look at me.” 

Robin did as she was told. 

“Are you going to be okay here with Cormoran? Do you want to stay here with him for a bit, or would you like for us to take you home?”

Robin swallowed and closed her eyes for a moment, deep in thought. “I’ll be fine, please, go home and get some rest. I trust Cormoran, more than any man I’ve ever known. He’d never intentionally hurt me.” 

Michelle smiled warmly. “I agree. I think you two will be just fine.” 

“I think you’re right,” the detective agreed.

“Well...I don’t want to stick around as your third wheel,” Vanessa piped up, “So I think I’m going to get home to Ollie. Shaved my legs and everything for this, might as well let him enjoy it.” 

The women shared and a laugh and hugs were given all around. Vanessa looked to make sure Cormoran was still at the bar. “Don’t forget our deal, alright?”

“I’ll try not to,” Robin responded with a nervous grin before her eyes darted over to him. “Thank you all again, really. This has been one of my favorite London birthdays to date. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

‘That’s what friends are for, right?” Vanessa asked.

“Of course,” Robin agreed. With a wave of her hand, she sent them off and returned to the table to pay her bill and grab her bag. Once finished, she wandered toward the bar.

Cormoran had just received their drinks when he turned to see the most beautiful sight head toward him. He’d been blessed with the view of the rest of Robin’s dress and it didn’t disappoint at all. The skirt flowed around her shins and billowed slightly behind her. His eyes trailed the slit on one side of the skirt all the way up the toned calf to her creamy thigh, where it ended and left just enough to the imagination. He felt a stirring at his groin and willed himself to think of anything else. She made it damn near impossible to ignore. When she finally reached him, he handed her the drink, “Whisky?”

“Yes please!” she responded, taking the cold glass. “Always reminds me of the first time we had whisky together.” 

Cormoran sipped his drink and nodded in agreement. That night was a fond memory for him, the first night he realized just how much he wanted Robin; he needed her like he needed a heartbeat. She was there and staring at him, eyes fiery from their encounter at the American Bar while on the Bamborough case. She was angry, he’d hurt her, and her face was a mess, but he wanted her all the same. He spent the next year making it up to her and showing her that he not only valued her, but also that he couldn’t be without her. 

Robin peered at him over the rim of her glass, waiting for him to say anything.

“Everyone left?” He asked, secretly hoping that this was the case.

“Yeah, Jessica was getting tired and Vanessa needed to get home to Ollie. Something about how she was dressed up and...well...I’ll let you fill in the dots,” she blushed. 

“I think I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you,” he laughed, soft and warm.

“So what were you and Nick up to tonight?” she asked, making casual conversation, while trying not to stare at him for longer than absolutely necessary.

“Oh you know, just drinks and complaining about life. As usual.”

She grinned. He really was a grumpy bastard sometimes, but she loved that about him. He was unapologetically himself on good days and bad days. 

“How was your night?” 

“It was really great. I’m so thankful to have them as friends. They really made today special for me.”

“That’s good,” a brief pause lingered between them as they waited to see if the other would speak first. 

Cormoran broke the silence first. “Well, it’s ten pm. Are you partied out or do you feel like another drink?” 

Robin laughed. “If I keep drinking, you might have to carry me home,” she replied, fully aware of the implication behind her words. 

“Not sure I could, leg and all. Can I see you home now then?” 

“That sounds good,” Robin agreed, suddenly feeling warmed by the thought of Cormoran in her apartment...and in other places. 

The pair finished their drinks and headed toward the door. It was a quiet walk to the tube station, though they brushed together several times while walking - jackets on skin and hands on hands. Robin could feel the tension in her shoulders build every time he was near her and warning bells went off in her mind, like when someone gets too close to a famous painting in a museum. She felt that she could admire the art to her heart’s content, but touching was forbidden. 

Upon reaching Robin’s stop, they both exited and headed in the direction of the flat she shared with Max, who was conveniently absent for the evening. Robin pushed the thought away from her mind as she and Strike strolled along her street. She couldn’t allow herself to think of inviting him in, bringing him to her room, having her wicked way with him...no...definitely not…

The pair walked in silence at first, but Strike spoke up after a few moments. 

“Did you have a good night at least, you know, before Ilsa was feeling bad?”

She nodded. “I did. It was really lovely. They’re wonderful to me, and I’m not sure how I would have gotten on without them over the past few years, you know, with everything that’s happened.”

Strike hummed in agreement and pulled out his cigarettes. “Mind if I…?” 

“Of course not,” Robin replied with a wave of her hand. 

He paused to light the cigarette and resumed walking, keeping his pace even with hers, as much as possible. 

“I’m glad you’ve had a good year. I truly meant what I said in my card. You deserve everything, Robin.”

She looked at him and his warm smile practically melted her from the inside out. “Thanks, Strike. Ehm…”

“What is it?” He stopped, looking at her intently. 

“I just…” Robin trailed off. “I don’t know how to thank you for everything. For taking a chance on me, making me feel some real sense of purpose for the first time in...well...a long time. For being my friend. My first real friend, honestly. If I didn’t have you...my life just wouldn’t be the same.”

Strike subsequently tossed his half-burned cigarette to the ground and stamped it out with his shoe. He moved toward her, his arms outstretched and Robin felt a shiver of _need_ run through her. She needed to be held by him, needed to feel him once again, like she had on her wedding day, and her last birthday. His embrace was welcome and familiar, like coming home, like collapsing onto a favorite couch, like falling and being caught before she hit the ground. Their bodies knew exactly what to do as they pressed together, their arms entwining around each other’s waists and necks. Robin found her hands at the base of his hairline, trying and nearly failing to resist the urge to run her fingers through his curls. Her chin rested against his chest, while her cheek brushed his.

Her skin felt cool against his burning cheeks and Strike reveled in the feel of her body pressed against his, and her fingertips resting in the hair at the base of his neck. She shivered, whether it was from the chill, or the proximity of their bodies in space, neither of them knew. Strike’s hand found its way under her arm and around her waist, pulling her softly toward him. The other made its way to her cheek and cradled her face in his palm. He pulled back to look at her. Robin - his beautiful Robin; and yet, not fully his. At least not in the way he wanted her to be. 

Before either of them knew what was happening, Strike lowered his face to hers and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. Her eyes closed and she leaned into his lips, soft and warm against her skin. When he finally pulled away, she felt a rumble deep in his chest as his voice vibrated. “The feeling is mutual,” he finally replied in a low, sultry voice. Robin never wanted to kiss him more than she did at that moment. But as all moments must, the feeling passed as quickly as it came. 

It took everything within him to pull away and when he did, he felt empty. A loss. As if some string in his heart was tied to hers and had snapped, severed at the loss of her closeness, of her presence. But it must be done. 

“Well, I...I’m just a little ways up…” she said breathlessly.

“Yes, I know. I’ll see you there safely, if that’s alright?”

“Of course. Thank you.”

Strike shoved his hands into his pockets and resumed walking beside her. They were silent for the rest of the time before they reached Robin’s door. 

“Thank you for walking me home. Will you be alright getting back?”

“Of course,” he responded. 

“Alright then. See you Monday?” 

“Yeah, see you then,” he responded, smiling at her and looking at his shoes briefly, before returning his gaze to her. 

“Good night,” she whispered and turned to open the door to her building. She turned once more, giving him one last smile before she closed the door on him. 

“Good night,” he whispered to the closed door, before turning away and setting off into the dark 


	6. Keeping With Tradition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cormoran returns with a gift and shares a moment with Robin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, mistakes are my own. Enjoy.

After Robin closed the door, she leaned her back against it and closed her eyes, sighing deeply. The evening had taken quite an unexpected turn, though she was not at all put out by it. 

Her thoughts immediately returned to what had just transpired between them - possibly her favorite kiss yet. They’d been so close, so warm together. His lips against her forehead had felt so impossibly _right._

Could it truly be, that after all this time, they were simply meant to remain friends? Or was there something more? Did he feel it too? 

Sighing once more, Robin shucked off her jacket and left her heels beside the door. She padded down the hallway, petting Wolfgang on the head on the way to her room. 

She immediately stripped and hopped in the shower before bed, rinsing her hair and face of all the product she’d applied for her big night out. As she stepped out and donned her soft robe, she heard the doorbell ring and Wolfgang let out one sharp bark. She walked to the door and looked through the peephole and saw the large, dark outline of Strike. 

***

After Cormoran left Robin’s flat, he trudged back down the street toward the tube, lighting yet another cigarette. He had every opportunity to make his move, and yet, he’d been too hesitant and lost his chance. Was it too late? 

He felt his inner jacket pocket for the envelope that rested there. He wanted nothing more than to give it to her, but he was afraid of the change it might bring. The envelope held the potential to change his life forever, in the best or worst way. It felt heavy against his heart. 

Upon reaching the tube station, he sat at a nearby bench to collect his thoughts and begin another cigarette. Thirty minutes later, he was no more decided than he had been when he left her flat. His conversation with Nick earlier in the evening flitted through his mind. 

_“Isn’t that the pointing of taking chances, is because you don’t know what’s going to happen?”_

Fuck it. 

Strike took off quickly, tossing his cigarette into a nearby receptacle and making his way back to the direction of Robin’s. At that moment, the heavens decided to open and pummeled Cormoran with cold rain. 

He rolled his eyes at his luck, though pressed on, already soaked. After what felt like an eternity, he finally reached Robin’s door and limped up the steps, his leg practically aflame beneath his trousers from all the activity. 

Strike paused for a moment, unsure if he should text or call her before knocking, but before he knew it, his knuckles had already made contact with the surface of the dark green wooden door. He heard a short, sharp bark and waited for a few moments. Sighing, he turned to leave and had his foot on the top stair when he heard the metallic click of a lock and the opening of the front door behind him. 

“Cormoran?” she called. He swore his heart stuttered at the sound of his name on her lips. 

“Are you alright?” she asked. “What’s happened?” He could tell she was growing more concerned by the moment. 

“I…” he started, though paused briefly. “I forgot to give you your birthday gift. Didn’t remember until I got to the tube.”

“And you walked all the way back here in the rain?”

“I did.”

“Do you want to come in? It’s freezing out there!”

“Alright.” He trudged through the door she left open behind her, feeling guilty for dripping water all over the foyer. “Sorry about the…” he trailed off, gesturing to his wet clothes. 

“Don’t be silly. I wouldn’t have invited you in if I was worried,” she replied, giving him a warm smile. 

For the first time, he noticed her appearance and his mouth went slack-jawed in appreciation. She wore a comfortable-looking blue robe that was tied at the waist. Her skin was make-up free and radiant, though slightly flushed from what he suspected was a hot shower. Her hair was wet and wavy, darkened by the water. Of all the disguises she had, this was probably his favorite - ‘Soft Robin’ as he’d termed it. She was comfortable and happy and looked delectable. He took a deep breath and willed away the tightening in his groin. 

“I uh…” he trailed off…“I better get going, but I just wanted to drop this by.” He pulled the envelope out of his jacket pocket. It was slightly soggy from all the rain, but it wasn’t dripping like the rest of him. “Don’t open it until just before midnight. I wanted it to be the last present you get.”

She cocked her head to the side out of curiosity and reached out her hand to take it from him. She then set it on the entryway table and took a step toward him. “You can’t be out in this, Cormoran. You’ll catch your death and you already walked here and back once. Why don’t you come in for a drink and we’ll figure something out?”

“I can’t,” Strike protested. “I can’t be here when you open it,” he gestured to the envelope.

“I won’t open it until you leave, how about that? I’d like to think I have some degree of self-control at thirty-one,” she laughed.

“Yeah, alright. I can stay for a little. Just until the rain dies down.”

Robin smiled to herself as Strike walked past, thankful that he hadn’t seen her blush.

“What’ll ya have?” she asked, heading toward the kitchen. 

“Whatever you’re having.”

“I-” he stood dripping on the linoleum-floor hallway. I think I’m going to drip everywhere,” he hesitated, gesturing again to his sopping wet clothes.

“I uhh…” Robin paused, thinking of a solution rather quickly. “I have an idea, but you’re not going to like it,” she told him. 

“Try me.”

“Well, Max is only a little bit shorter than you. I could go get something for you to wear and put your things in the dyer?”

“Robin…” he started. “I don’t think that’s…”

“Hush, go sit down there and I’ll bring you some things,” she said, gesturing to a small bench in the entryway area. 

He stepped forward and placed a hand on her arm. “Fine, but _I’ll_ put my clothes in the dryer,” he asserted. 

Robin simply nodded her consent and headed to Max’s room to search through his available clothes. It was oddly intimate, choosing what someone you find attractive, but aren’t technically together with, is going to wear. Robin finally settled on a pair of dark blue pajama pants, a white undershirt, and socks and boxers to go with them. She knew for a fact that Max kept brand new boxers in his side table for gentleman callers, should the need arise. She blushed at the thought of Strike in her vicinity in nothing but boxers and lingered on the idea only for a moment before heading out of the room and closing the door behind her. 

Passing by her room, she took a detour to the bathroom for towels and laid them out on the counter before returning to Strike. Attempting to bite back a mischievous smile, she handed him the stack of clothes. “My bedroom’s closest. You can just go through there. I’ll show you the dryer after.”

He took the clothes from her and nodded, both in understanding and in thanks. 

“I’ll go get our drinks.” With a turn of her heel, she headed toward the kitchen. 

While waiting for Strike, Robin hummed to herself, getting lost in the monotony of cleaning up. She washed the dishes, wiped the counters, and finally pulled a bottle of champagne out of the refrigerator. As she poured some into two glasses, she was reminded of this night last year, just as she hoped she would be. Her fancy night at the Ritz with Strike. It had been perfect in every possible way. Now here she was, a year later, with the most perfect man under her roof. Yet, he still wasn’t hers. 

Lost in her thoughts, Robin’s hips began to sway as she hummed and dried the dishes she’d just washed. 

Cormoran entered behind her, walking softly so as not to scare her. The sight in front of him pulled at the domestic string between his heart and his mind - the one that wanted a house, and wife, and children. Sometimes. But more importantly, the one that wanted Robin. _All_ the time. Her calves were soft and creamy-looking, and the hem of her robe flipped up just a bit as she moved her hips back and forth while humming. He took in the sight of her thighs and felt _need_ grow within him. After a moment, he cleared his throat and looked away sheepishly.

“Bollocks, you scared me,” Robin told him, jumping a little. 

He couldn’t look at her. 

Robin then crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at him. “How much did you see?” she asked playfully. 

“Enough.” He smiled and watched as she finished her remaining dishes and turned to face him. “Enough for you to be embarrassed,” he joked, noting her reddening face. 

She grabbed a dishcloth and attempted to _thwack_ him with it to no avail. He sidestepped her and caught her wrist in his hand. He gently removed the towel from her hand and set it on the kitchen table, along with a bag containing his wet clothes. 

“Dance with me?” he asked, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 

“There’s no music playing,” Robin said pointedly, her large doe-eyes on him. 

“There wasn’t any just now either. Come on, I owe the birthday girl a dance.”

“Oh, do you?”

“I do.” 

The double meaning of his words was not lost on her. 

“C’mere,” he whispered huskily, pulling her gently toward him, though being mindful of her body language. All signs pointed to ‘yes’ and finally, she was pressed against him, and he closed his eyes in response. 

“So we danced at the Ritz last year, and now we’re dancing this year?” Robin asked cheekily, placing one hand on his chest and the opposite hand in his large, warm one. 

“Maybe we should make it a tradition.”

“Maybe we should,” she agreed. 

“Then let’s do it. Promise me, no matter what, that you’ll always save me a dance on your birthday.”

Robin’s eyes began to tear up, but she nodded her head and whispered an affirmative answer. 

At that moment, the hand that was pressed against the small of her back grew heavier and she felt the gentle flex of his fingers against her. A shiver quickly trailed up her spine and back down again and he _felt_ it. 

He hummed in appreciation of having her this close. Twice in the same night, she had been within the perfect proximity to kiss. Alas, his judgment told him to wait, only a little longer, until she knew what he had in store for her.

As sorry as he was to do so, he stopped their turning and swaying and pulled away slowly, savoring the feel of her. She felt the rumble of his chest beneath her palm just before her arm fell back to her side. “I should probably…”

“Yeah, of course. It’s just this way,” she replied as she led him to a small laundry room. She set the dryer up for him and he put his clothes in, following her back out to the kitchen.

“What now?” he asked, an inquisitive eyebrow arched at her. 

“Champagne!” she smiled, handing him a glass. “It’s what we had last year.” 

“Well, I guess we really are creating a tradition, aren’t we?”

She nodded and held the glass to her lips, taking a swig and savoring it. He followed suit and gave her a nod of approval. “Just as good as I remember.”

Robin beamed at him and knocked back the rest of her champagne before setting her glass in the sink. “I’m knackered,” she sighed, yawning dramatically. 

“Why don’t you go to bed? I’ll get my clothes when they’re done and head off.”

Robin shook her head in response, “No way,” she protested, yawning once more. 

He cut off a growl of protection, but her name still husked from his lips. “Ellacott…”

She smiled sleepily and padded back to the living room, looking out the window. “Oh, Cormoran, it’s still pouring!” She took her phone off the charger and glanced at the weather, which indicated that it was going storm throughout the night. 

She couldn’t...could she? Could she really offer to let him stay the night without it meaning something inappropriate? As okay as she would be if Cormoran offered her something of an inappropriate nature, she knew it would be dangerous. Yet, in the back of her mind, she imagined him crawling into bed with her, holding her, touching her, and some part of it just felt so incredibly _right._

Shaking herself away from her thoughts, Robin turned to him and whispered a single word. “Stay.”


	7. It Was Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cormoran stays the night and Robin opens her envelope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters within 48 hours? Y'all are killing me! Big thanks to my friends over at the Denmark Street Discord for forcing this chapter out of me. This story is making me so happy, and I hope it's making you happy too. Only a few chapters left now. Your patience will be rewarded - stay tuned! 
> 
> Forgive any typos pls&thx.

“S-sorry?” Strike asked, momentarily frozen at the word that just left Robin’s lips. 

“You heard me,” she breathed, also unmoving. “Stay here. Just for tonight. You can take Max’s bed or the couch. Wherever is most comfortable for you.”

“Okay,” he agreed, taking Robin by surprise.

“Okay...you’ll stay?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay…” she trailed off. “I’ll...I’ll just go get some things then. Do you want Max’s room?”

“Yes, if you’re comfortable with that, I’ll take it. Thank you, Robin.”

“It’s nothing, really.”

But he knew, deep down, it was everything.

Robin quickly went to Max’s room to change out the sheets and pillows and returned to Strike. “It’s all ready Corm-” she stopped as she rounded the corner, her eyes and her expression softening at the scene before her. Cormoran Strike was asleep on her sofa, hair mussed, hands tucked under his head like a little boy, soft snores emanating from him. She didn’t dare wake him. Instead, she reached for a blanket from the back of the sofa and covered him with it. Her hand lingered on his shoulder for far longer than it should have. Like a moth to a flame, her hand then reached to caress his face gently and he unconsciously leaned into her touch.

“Good night, Cormoran,” she whispered, leaving him to rest. 

She softly walked to the kitchen to clean up what remained of their drinks and found the envelope on the kitchen table where she’d left it to dry, though it still seemed to be sopping wet. Though the curiosity was killing her, she remained steadfast to her promise. She would have self-control. 

Smiling, she laid the envelope back on the table and shut off the light. She made her way to her bedroom and quietly closed the door behind her. Crawling into bed, Robin felt the most satisfied she’d been in a long time. Every muscle in her body was bathed in warmth as she recalled their closeness in the kitchen only an hour prior. Remembering the feeling of Cormoran’s strong arms wrapped around her helped her drift into a deep and peaceful sleep. 

***

The following morning, Cormoran awoke with a start, not quite sure where he was at first. His eyes blinked open sleepily as he took in the gray-blue walls and the dark-colored couch that surrounded him. He groped for his phone on the chair beside him, upon which the time read 6:15 am. He groaned and threw a hand over his eyes, attempting to block out the morning light. It was no use. Sighing, Strike rolled and swung his legs over the side of the couch, using his core muscles to pull the rest of the way up. 

As he entered back into consciousness, the feelings that had overtaken him last night returned in an overwhelming flood. Robin, pressed close against him, the promise he’d begged from her, the plea in the form of a single word that had sent shivers running down his spine. _Stay._ Stay, he had. But now, it was morning and the rain was gone and he no longer had a reason to stay. Groaning, he attempted to stand up on the leg he’d been too tired to remove last night. He wobbled slightly, but caught his balance after a few steps. He quietly maneuvered his way to the kitchen and took his clothes out of the dryer. He closed and locked the door to the laundry room and changed there, as there was more room and fewer things to potentially knock over. 

Once dressed, he folded Max’s clothes and placed them on top of the washer. His own clothes were slightly wrinkled from sitting in the dryer overnight, but Strike would take wrinkled over wet any day. Upon exiting the laundry room, he was surprised to see an open-mouthed Max staring at him, slightly startled by Strike’s sudden appearance. 

“Hello, mate. Good trip?”

Max nodded, his mouth still open slightly before he shook his head and responded. “Yeah, definitely. Are you? And…” he trailed off, looking down the hall toward Robin’s room, then back to Strike. He took a step closer, and whispered in a low voice, “I thought that wasn’t until tonight?”

“God - no,” Strike replied, catching onto his meaning, his face turning red. “No, it still is tonight. If...if she agrees.”

“She will, no question,” Max responded, patting Strike lightly on the shoulder. 

“Well thanks for all your help, I appreciate it.” 

“No problem at all. Happy to help. Just want her to be happy y’know? She deserves it more than anyone, after all the shit she’s been through.”

“Yeah…” Cormoran nodded in agreement. 

“Last night was just...unexpected. I walked her home and got caught in the rain. She offered the couch, so I stayed there. Nothing untoward.”

“I know, Strike. I trust you, and so does she.”

“Well, I’m off. Have her open the envelope, yeah?” 

“She hasn’t yet?” Max asked, curiously. 

“Nah. Didn’t want her to open it with me here.” 

“Ah, alright, yeah. I’ll take it to her soon. Sounds like she could use some sleep.”

“Thanks, Max.” With that, Cormoran limped his way down the hall and paused outside of Robin’s door. He gazed longingly at it, before continuing to leave. 

“Good luck!” Max called before Cormoran opened the door. Strike nodded and waved before shutting the large green door closed behind him and walking off into the early morning light.

***

Max brewed a pot of coffee and poured and doctored a cup to Robin’s liking, placing it on a small tray, along with Strike’s now wrinkled and well-worn envelope. He knocked as he slowly opened the door, making sure that Robin was still asleep and decent. When he saw that she was, he walked to the side of her bed, intending only to leave the tray on her bedside table. However, he saw that she had awoken and lay blinking up at him, confusedly. 

“Max? What are you doing here?”

“Caught an early ride home. I was knackered, honestly. Saw your Strike on my way in. Sounds like someone had a good birthday?” he said in jest, teasing Robin. 

“Ha-ha,” she replied sarcastically, blushing slightly. “Now you know that nothing happened. In fact, he came closer to getting into your pants than he did getting into mine. Quite literally.”

“So I saw. He had just finished changing when I walked in. He turned as red as you did when I asked him if he’d stayed the night. He briefly explained what happened, but was in a hurry to leave. Asked me to give you this,” Max gestured to the tray.

Robin simply stared for a moment, not yet reaching for the envelope. The time had come. After all the anticipation, her present from Strike would be revealed in just a few quick tears. She reached for it, sliding her thumb under the flap that was still slightly damp from last night’s storm. She pulled out a plain white piece of paper that had been folded into thirds and dropped the now empty envelope back onto the tray. 

Her anticipation piqued as she hesitated, looking to Max for reassurance. He simply shrugged in response. After taking a deep breath, she unfolded the top, then the bottom. On it, in Strike’s handwriting, were four words.

She looked to Max, turning the paper so he could see. “What does this mean?” she asked. 

“Well, it looks like you’re meant to go there, I suppose. There must be something for you?” 

Robin bit her lower lip in thought, wondering what Strike could possibly be up to. “What is he doing?” 

“I think you’re just going to have to go and find out…” Max encouraged her, playing dumb. 

Robin hummed in acknowledgment, then threw her covers off. “I’ve got to go and get ready for today, I suppose. Thanks for the coffee, Max.” 

“Anytime. Now, I’m going to bed.”

Max went into his room and closed the door, while Robin showered and got dressed. She spent the better part of the morning responding to emails and cleaning. By the time lunchtime arrived, Robin could no longer stand it and went to retrieve her phone. She pressed Ilsa’s name and her friend answered the phone immediately. 

“Please tell me you’ve shagged him?”

Robin practically snorted into her mobile. “I most certainly have not!” She exclaimed. 

“Dammit, Robs. You were supposed to make this happen.”

“Ils, I didn’t say it was never going to happen, I just said it hasn’t happened...yet.”

At this, Ilsa practically squealed into the phone in her excitement. “What does that even mean?!”

“I don’t know,” Robin told her friend. “But was hoping you could help me out? I’ve received a cryptic birthday message from Corm, and I’m not entirely sure what to make of it.”

“What’s it say?” Ilsa asked.

Robin told her. 

“I don’t recall anything significant about that, but it seems like you might just want to go and check it out?” Ilsa offered. “Sorry Robin, Corm told me very little about this.”

“That’s alright, it was worth a try. Thanks, Ilsa.”

“Now, back to the shagging…”

Robin laughed and chatted with her friend for a few more moments before hanging up and setting on about her afternoon. 

The day crawled by at a snail’s pace, but picked up once she received a text from Strike. 

_I trust that by now you’ve opened your envelope. I wanted to offer a bit more information. You’ll want to wear a dress - that’s the only requirement. Bring something warm to go over it. I can’t wait to see you tonight. C xxx._

Robin smiled, falling backward across her bed with a happy sigh. Her response was short and sweet. 

_The feeling is very, very mutual. R xxx._

With that, Robin began to get ready. She once again curled her hair, though applied much more natural makeup for tonight than she had for her evening out with her girlfriends. She thought of the previous evening with Strike, and the carrying on of tradition - dancing and champagne. In an effort to keep the tradition alive, she selected the same blue dress he’d seen her in last year. The one that caused him to look at her for a beat longer than usual. 

After slipping on the dress and a pair of low, comfortable heels, along with thick, warm cardi and her bag, she made her way out of the flat and to the tube. Following a quick and chilly tube ride, there was another short cab ride to her final destination. Upon exiting the cab, she saw that she had arrived with five minutes to spare. She wandered up to the entrance and walked a bit, looking out over the water. The city was breathtaking at night, and she vowed to never tire of the view. 

After a moment, she heard footsteps and a throat clearing behind her. 

“Hiya,” she breathed, taking him in, offering her most dazzling smile. 

This was going to be an interesting evening. 


	8. It's Just You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The contents of the envelope are revealed and Cormoran makes a confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we are nearing the end of our journey, and here's the chapter everyone's been waiting for, I think. I hope the wait was worth it. Expect a rating change next chapter! Happy reading!
> 
> Note: The Westminster Pier is very real, but my imagining of it, and il Pettirosso, are fictional.

“Hi,” Cormoran responded, walking toward her. God, she was impossibly beautiful. Her reddish hair was curled and swept around her face, and she wore the same lovely blue dress she’d worn last year and he _noticed._ “Keeping up with tradition, I see?” he asked, giving her a cheeky wink. 

“Yeah,” she acknowledged. “Heard somewhere that it was bad luck to break tradition?” she smiled up at him, laughing softly. 

“You look…so beautiful...” Cormoran trailed off.

Robin smiled and looked down at her shoes in an effort to hide the blush that overtook her cheeks. “Thanks. You clean up nice yourself. See you finally got your jacket taken in?”

He let out a laugh and stepped forward, kissing her on the cheek. “Right in one,” he told her as he brought his face closer to hers, his lips brushing her porcelain skin gently. His stubble tickled her cheek and she bit back a giggle. 

“Alright Cormoran Strike, enough of this mystery. _‘Westminster Pier, 7 pm,’”_ she quoted the note he’d left for her that morning. “We’re here, what are we doing?” 

He stepped beside her and placed a hand on the small of her back, pointing toward the end of the pier. “You see that boat, all the way at the end? The one with all the lights?”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, breathing in the smell of him - lavender and smoke. 

“We’re going on it tonight.”

“Are we?!” She asked in surprise, as if she couldn’t quite believe it. 

He nodded and offered her the crook of his arm to balance as they walked down the boards of the uneven pier. “Shall we?” She gladly took his arm and walked with him, not unaware of a time she’d taken a similar walk, in an entirely different place, with the entirely wrong man. 

“So what’s with the fancy clothes?” She asked, taking in his well-pressed, sexily-fitted dark suit. 

“Dress code. It’s why I asked you to wear a dress. I just...wasn’t expecting this particular dress.” 

“What were you expecting then, mmm?” Robin teased. 

He turned to face her, biting back a growl of lust that threatened to take over him. “Nevermind,” he smiled. “Come on, let’s head on up.”

“So what does all of this entail?” she asked, curious about what he had in store for their evening aboard. 

“Well, there’s a cruise down the Thames, drinks, and dancing on the main deck, and dinner inside.”

“Wow. This must have cost a f-”

“Robin Ellacott,” he cut her off. “If you so much as _think_ about the cost of this evening, I’m going to cancel the entire thing and take you home. _”_

_Oh…_

She threw her hands up in mock surrender and smiled. “Alright then, your wish is my command.” 

Upon reaching the main ramp to the boat, he led her up slowly, his hand once again pressed against the small of her back. Robin inhaled under the touch of his large, warm hand, and shivered slightly. He felt it and smiled. “That’s why I asked you to bring something warm to cover up with.” It was clear that her cardi was not going to be enough to keep her warm as the night went on. But maybe, just maybe, Cormoran himself would be enough. 

The boat was large and well-lit with three decks, all of which were consecutively smaller as they rose in height. As she walked up the ramp, she caught the name in a curvy script on the side of the boat. “il Pettirosso?” she murmured aloud, not really expecting an answer to her question. “The Robin,” Cormoran whispered in her ear, smiling. “It’s Italian.”

“It’s beautiful,” she smiled and reached for his hand to squeeze it. He then led her to the bar on the large, lower deck, which opened up into a small wooden dance floor. Others were milling about, women in glittery dresses and fancy hairstyles, men in tuxedos and suits with their hair gelled to perfection. A nearby DJ was playing a mix of slow dances and fast-paced songs, while they ordered drinks; a whisky for him, and a glass of white wine for her. After they ordered, they felt the shuttering of the floor beneath them and the loud groan of the engines as the boat left the dock. They stood at a pub table that was covered with a white linen cloth, sipping at their drinks, taking in their surroundings. 

“This is incredible,” Robin told him, looking all around. “I’ve never been on a dinner cruise before.” 

“Neither have I,” he murmured, unable to take his eyes off her face as she gazed around the room. He shook himself out of his trance and placed his empty whisky glass on the table. He held out a hand to her, indicating that he wanted to dance. “Dance with me?” he asked, holding his breath for her response. 

“Cormoran Strike, two dances in one weekend? I’m not sure how much excitement a girl can handle,” she laughed. 

With that, she accepted his hand and he led her to the floor, where a few other couples were swaying in time to the music. The tempo was slow and simmering, as Strike took her in his arms and pulled her close, reveling in the feel of her body against his, and her hand warm against his own. Bravely, he leaned his face forward, closer to her, and rested his temple against hers. He closed his eyes as they moved, ever so gently, so as not to disturb his leg too much. She smelled of flowers and the scent surrounded him, a heady mix of all the things he wanted and all the things he couldn’t have. _Yet._

They danced a few more songs before Cormoran’s leg began to tire. He pulled away from her on the last song and brushed his stubble against her cheek for a kiss once more. He could hardly stand to keep himself away from her. They wandered over to the bar for a refill on their drinks, then headed inside the main dining room. There, they found a dozen wooden tables laid with the finest china, silverware, and bottles of wine in ice buckets at the end of each table. The pair were led to their own table in a corner of the dining room. 

They were served a candlelit four-course meal, which was perhaps the most delicious meal Robin had ever had the pleasure of eating. By the time dinner was over, they had both eaten to their stomach’s content and had consumed a full bottle of white wine between them. They were sated and happy, and groaned when a slice of cheesecake was brought out and set before them. 

Neither of them could resist a small taste. Cormoran took the first bite and immediately scooped up another and held the fork out to Robin. Without hesitation, she leaned forward to accept it, allowing her tongue to linger on the fork for slightly longer than was necessary. Strike noticed and felt an uncomfortable stiffness at his groin and the sudden desire to seize Robin’s lips in his own. _All in due time,_ he told himself. 

As the servers came to clear their tables, Robin let out a yawn, half-expecting the night to be over as she saw the other passengers return to the bar and the dance floor outside. 

“Don’t get tired yet, Ellacott, I’ve got one more thing for you.”

“There’s more?” Robin asked in disbelief, still feeling bubbly and happy from the bit she’d had to drink. “How could there possibly be more? You spoil me, Cormoran Strike!” He smiled slightly, but his face became rather serious. “What’s wrong?” she asked, suddenly concerned. 

“Come with me?” he hesitated, reaching a hand out toward her. She nodded and accepted it.

Strike led her not to the main deck where everyone else had gathered, but up to the top deck, which required a short, steep climb up a staircase. When they reached the top, he took in the smell, the salty air stinging the inside of his nose slightly, and the spray from the side of the boat just barely grazing his hand as he walked by. With their hands locked together, he intertwined his fingers with hers and led her as close to the bow of the boat as he could safely manage. 

He turned to face her and began to speak over the sounds of the waves lapping against the boat as it sliced through the dark water. “Robin, you know you’re my best mate, yeah?”

“Yeah?” she responded, feeling his palm grow warm beneath hers. She looked downward at their joined hands, which spoke of so much more than mere friendship. 

“That’s not all though…” he trailed off, nerves suddenly getting the better of him. 

“Yeah?” Robin looked up at him, blue eyes shining in the night, brighter than any star he’d seen. Her eyes were full of hope and a hint of uncertainty. 

“Robin you...you’re...my best…my…” he paused to regroup. “You’re my everything.”

The force of his words came crashing down around them and caused her to take a step back. “Wh-what?” she asked, shakily, as if her ears deceived her. “What do you mean?”

“You’re everything to me, Robin Venetia Ellacott. You’re my best mate, my best partner, my best driver, my best...everything. But more importantly, you’ve helped me learn how to be my best self - you’ve taught me how to have hope, how to have compassion, how to listen, how to be brave, and most importantly, how to love. You’ve given me the greatest thing I’ve ever known and it’s not the agency, or the fame and fortune, or even the partnership. It’s just you. You and your willingness to let me be who I am, sometimes to a fault. You’ve never asked more of me than I’ve asked of myself. You’ve never tried to change me to fit your life. If anything, you’ve adapted and changed to fit mine so perfectly, that to imagine my life without you in it, well, let’s just say it would be less than ideal,” he smiled, gazing at her with all the love and admiration in the world. 

Robin felt a knot form in her throat and it was like she couldn’t breathe. She attempted to take a deep breath, but her chest only quivered and her lungs felt like they could burst at any given moment. She felt hot tears slide down her cheeks. “I…” she choked out, “I don’t know...what to say…”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just needed you to know. I couldn’t go another day without you knowing how much you meant...how much you _mean_ to me. When I said you deserve everything the universe had to offer you, I truly meant it. So I’m offering myself, and everything that I have. I’m yours, Robin. Totally and completely yours.”

Robin looked up at him, tears shining in her eyes and running down her cheeks, staining them. “Cormoran - are you sure? I don’t think I’m the one you tr-”

He held a soft finger to her lips, gesturing for her to stop speaking. “Please don’t tell me that you’re not what I want. I’m a grown man. I’ve been all over the world and I’ve been through unimaginable pain in my life. You have been the _only_ thing that has ever made me feel complete and I won’t allow you to stand there and tell me that I don’t want you. I want you more than words can say, Robin. The question, now, is whether you want me too?”

Robin bit her lower lip and moved closer to him, resting her forehead against his. “Things felt different ever since Barrow - then again after the wedding - and after my birthday last year. We’ve been through so many seasons of waiting and wanting and just missing each other. And now it’s just...fallen into our laps and I can’t help but feel that it’s too good to be true.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, closing his eyes and breathing in the smell of her. Despite the chill in the salty air, she felt warm against him and smelled of his favorite scent. 

“What about the agency?” she whispered.

“We’ll make it work. I don’t intend to let you go that easily.”

“What if I don’t want this?” she asked, looking at him intently. He opened his eyes again and looked at her. 

“Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t, and you’ll never hear another word from me about it.”

“I can’t do that, Cormoran. You know I can’t.” 

“Then what _can_ you look me in the eye and tell me?” He rasped.

She hesitated, only for a moment, before she spoke, “God, I want you so much.” In one swift motion, her hands reached for the lapels of his jacket and pulled him down to her. Their lips met and she collapsed against him. They were anything but gentle. Five years of longing, waiting, and hoping had led them to this very moment. Robin’s hands wound their way around his neck and he cupped her cheek in his palm, while the other hand found its way around her waist, pulling her as close as possible, so much so, that her heels practically lifted off the floor. 

She giggled and smiled against his lips, as he peppered her with kiss after kiss. 

“Is this real?” she laughed, resting her forehead against his once again, as he continued to kiss her. 

“I fucking hope so,” he replied earnestly. “All this time…”

He paused and pulled back to look at her and smoothed a lock of hair out of her eyes, then kissed her as if his life depended on it. She melted against him, matching his enthusiasm, neither of them wanting the moment to end. 


	9. I Want You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin receives her final surprise, sexy texts are exchanged, and there's a late-night meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging in there folks! Thus begins the explicit portion of our story. *Please mind the rating change!* One chapter to go! Enjoy!

Robin sighed against Strike’s lips and heard an appreciative groan from somewhere deep within his chest. Their kisses were long-past chaste as he sought to explore and taste every inch of her mouth. She opened her mouth to him slightly and he took that as an invitation and passed his tongue over her lips. She devoured him eagerly, as if she were a lost traveler that had survived a three year long journey through the desert, and were tasting water for the first time. 

Gradually, their kisses slowed and Robin shivered, still holding onto the collar of Strike’s jacket. 

“You’re cold,” he murmured. With that, he removed his suit jacket and wrapped it around her, catching her in it and holding her against him.

“Not anymore,” she hummed, closing her eyes. She felt his lips press to her forehead and leaned into them. 

“You’re going to have a hard time topping this birthday,” she said into his chest.

He laughed softly and she felt safe and warm and happy. 

“Well now that you’ve said that, I haven’t told you the real final present.”

‘You mean that wasn’t it?!” she cried in disbelief.

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Alright, well, out with it I suppose,” she laughed.

“This ship has cabins. It’s an overnight cruise.”

 _Oh no...oh no...oh..._ Robin had begun to panic internally. 

“I’ve gotten two cabins - one for each of us. It’s an overnight cruise with brunch on deck in the morning. Yours has some things that I think you’ll find relaxing. I hope it wasn’t too presumptuous, but I asked Max to pack a holdall for you and it’s already in your cabin.”

 _Oh...so there’s no reason to panic,_ Robin thought to herself. “Thank you, Cormoran. This all feels like too much, but I’m so thankful for it. It’ll be a birthday to remember.”

He smiled and nodded. “I’ll never forget today,” he assured her. “Now, what do you say we go back down for a cuppa and I’ll walk you to your room?”

“Yeah, okay,” she agreed. Bravely, she caught his hand in her own and brought it to her lips for a kiss. “Thank you. For everything, really.”

“You’re more than worth it, Robin. I meant every word I said tonight.” 

“Me too,” she smiled.

When they returned to the dining area, they found a small table set with light drinks and refreshments. They each settled for a hot cup of tea and found a quiet spot to sit. 

“How did you find out about this boat?” she asked, warming her fingers on her mug. 

“I went on it when I was based out of Italy. It was there at the time but changed owners frequently throughout the years. I only took an overnight cruise because I needed to get away from the army for a day. It’s a very popular boat, because of the cabins. I should have known then that ‘il Pettirosso’ would become the most meaningful name in my life.”

Robin blushed, looking down at her tea. “It’s wonderful, Cormoran, truly. Now it’ll always hold a special meaning for both of us.” She reached for his hand, tracing the outline of the veins that were visible on the back of it. “I still can’t believe this has happened. What do we do now?”

He reached a hand out to tuck a golden curl behind her ear. “Now, you go to your cabin, enjoy a quiet, relaxing evening at sea, and meet me here for breakfast in the morning. We’ll figure everything else out as we go along. It’s what we’ve always done best.”

She laughed softly. “I can’t disagree with you there. Walk me to my room?”

He nodded and cleared their mugs and returned to escort her. They descended down a small flight of stairs and reached a set of hallways that spread in opposite directions with two or three doors on each hallway. The pair turned left and Strike led Robin to the last room on the left side. He inserted a keycard into the lock and swung the door open, gesturing for her to enter ahead of him. 

Robin’s mouth went slack as she gazed around the room. The walls were lined in striped cream and red wallpaper. To the right, a large bed took up a corner of the room and looked warm and inviting. A flat-screen TV was attached to the wall opposite the bed. All over, warm lighting bathed the cabin in a happy glow. There was a small closet, a plush velvet seat, and two carved wooden side tables. A large window covered nearly an entire wall. Though it was dark and the curtains were drawn, Robin could still make out the sounds of the ocean, mostly the waves lapping against the side of a boat. 

Cormoran pointed to a closed door behind her. “There’s a nice bathroom in there. I think you’ll find everything you need for relaxing,” he smiled. 

“Well, I’m going to head down to mine. I’m just at the opposite end there, number six, if you need anything.”

She nodded in return. “Thank you, Cormoran.”

He nodded and started to leave, stepping over the threshold of Robin’s cabin and walking slowly down the hall. 

Before she could even consider her next move, she too stepped over the threshold and into the hall, calling out to Strike. 

She softly said his name, willing her voice not to crack with want, “Cormoran…”

He closed his eyes and smiled to himself, thankful to hear his name on her lips. He turned to face her. “Yeah?”

“Come here, please,” she requested, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

He obliged and stood before her, waiting for her response. Robin slid her hands around his neck and pulled him down to her, their lips ghosting over each other. 

“What?” he whispered, smiling down at her. 

“You know what,” she responded cheekily, nuzzling her cheek to his. 

“Mmm, I think maybe you should show me?”

With that, she kissed him long and fierce. It started soft and slow before Strike deepened it, wordlessly begging for more. She sighed against him and opened her mouth, as he nearly knocked the breath out of her. 

He tasted warm and sweet and slightly smoky, but not in an unpleasant way. Robin met his enthusiasm as kissing escalated to tugging at clothes, and running fingers through hair, and moaning into mouths. She pulled away suddenly, breathless, her blue eyes darkened with lust, though sparkling in the low light of the hallway.

Strike smoothed a hand through Robin’s hair and she closed her eyes, leaning slightly into his touch. 

“You should go, enjoy your night,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be right here when you wake up in the morning.”

She bit her lower lip and nodded, taking a step back toward the room, willing herself to remain there. “Good night,” she whispered, refusing to look at him again. She didn’t know if she’d be able to stop herself from going after him if she did. The door closed, and Strike ambled down the short hallway to his cabin, a smile on his face, and shut the door behind him.

***

After she was sure he’d gone - she’d opened the door to an empty hallway - Robin locked the door and collapsed on the bed, her heart and mind racing a million miles a minute.

Following a short rest, she removed her dress and heels, and padded across the room to the bathroom, gasping slightly as she flicked on the light and saw the sight before her. There was a large basket set on the side of the crisp, white jetted tub, with a variety of candles, scrubs, bath bombs, and lotions. There was a fluffy white dressing gown, a bottle of white wine, and a glass, along with chocolate and biscuits. Robin smiled as she looked at the tag on the basket, with a message scrawled in Strike’s familiar handwriting.

_Best wishes for a relaxing birthday for a wonderful woman, partner, and best mate._

_Love, Strike xxx_

She swiped at the tear that formed in the corner of her eye and waited for her eyes to focus before moving back into the main cabin and retrieving her phone to send him a text while they were close enough to shore. 

_Thank you. R xxx_

With that, Robin sat on the side of the tub as she let the hot water run over her feet, up to her shins, before sliding in. She’d filled the tub with lavender oil and grabbed one of the soft loofahs and bath scrubs. Robin gingerly lowered herself into the scalding water, hissing and sighing at the feel of it against her skin. She played a relaxing playlist from her phone and leaned her head back against the tub to rest. After she’d closed her eyes for a few moments, she heard the music cut away and return briefly, indicating that a notification had just come through on her phone. 

She felt herself grow warm at the sight of Cormoran’s name on her screen and unlocked it, reading his response. 

_You’re welcome. I hope you had a good time tonight._

A ‘good time’ had been a vast understatement. Tonight had been the happiest night she’d had in a long time, especially following the dissolution of her marriage. She couldn’t remember when she last felt like this. She smiled as she tapped out her response.

_Still having a good time. The fun didn’t stop after you left._

Robin sighed, feeling adventurous and cheeky. She was naked, warm, and filled with good food and wine. She had a sexy partner who’d taken her on a thoughtful date and was just down the hall. She’d also been involuntarily celibate for a _very_ long time. 

His response consisted of one word:

_Oh?_

Robin rolled her eyes at the implication of his one little question, though felt a shiver trail down her spine at the thought of him, thinking about her. Another text came through.

_What are you doing?_

_How to respond?_ Robin thought, her thumbs hovering over her phone screen, chewing on her lower lip in thought. She could go for it, no holds barred, and hope that Strike was interested, or she could play coy and string them both along. She made her choice.

_Taking an extra hot bath. Trying not to think too much._

His reply came within seconds. 

_About what?_

Robin smiled to herself.

_Everything and anything. Tonight, work, us...you._

_What are you doing?_

A _ping._

_Trying to remember everything._

She responded. 

_And how’s that going for you?_

_Fanfuckingtastic. Though I could maybe do with a reminder…_

Robin giggled. 

_Don’t push your luck, Strike. It’s been a beautiful evening. We don’t want to get impulsive now, do we?_

She could picture him sitting in bed, smiling, typing back to her.

_Maybe “we” do._

A bolt of lust shot straight to Robin’s core. Her body was warm all over from the bathwater and yet, the air within the cabin still stung at her skin, causing her skin to ripple with gooseflesh and her nipples to harden. She didn’t respond right away. They were toeing the line and admittedly, she fucking _liked_ it. There was nothing stopping either of them from showing up at the other’s room, and potentially leading them into a much more permanent place. After she’d soaked a bit more and washed up, her body was warm and sated, and she drained the tub. Robin then dried off and prepped for bed, wearing only the thin nightgown that Max had packed for her in his attempt to help Strike arrange her birthday surprise. 

She placed her phone on the charger and crawled under the covers before typing out her final message to Strike.

_Go to sleep. Good night, Strike xxx_

With that, she clicked her phone off and fell asleep almost immediately.

***

Strike awoke suddenly, his heart racing and his cock hard. He winced as he pushed himself up to his elbows, noticing the stiffness at his groin and the tent that had formed beneath his bedsheets. He groaned and thrust his head hard against the pillow, covering his face with his hand.

He’d been having the most glorious dream about Robin, about how she felt and sounded and looked. She’d been naked and moving above him, throwing her head back and mewling as she ground down on his cock, and _fuck_ if he wasn’t as hard as a rock.

Strike waited, willing his erection to dissipate, but it was no use. He’d only just kissed Robin. It wasn’t fair of him to think of her in this way, subconsciously or otherwise. The physicality of his absolute _need_ for her refused to make itself scarce and Strike groaned, finding his hand wandering down toward his hardened length. 

He sighed and pressed his head into the pillow as his hand enclosed around his cock, which was hot and thick in his palm. He slowly began to stroke himself, moaning softly and moving against his length. It was nothing compared to what Robin must feel like, but it would surely get the job done. 

He thought about their long, languid kisses, his tongue moving against her warm, wet mouth, her teeth biting his lower lip, and their hands thoroughly exploring each other. He thrust up against his hand much harder than he’d meant to, but the idea of her just made it feel so damn good and he needed to come _right now._

Strike began to pick up speed and increased the pressure with which he grasped his cock, attempting to simulate the real thing as best he could. His thumb swiped over the bead of moisture that had formed on the tip of him and he relished the feel of wetness against his sensitive skin. 

Strike continued to pump himself, his whole body now tingling with intensity, the friction of skin on skin becoming practically unbearable. Just as he felt himself starting to lose control, he heard a knock at the door of his cabin. “ _Fuck!_ ” He gasped and stilled his hips, pausing to listen in the dark. There it was again, three short, soft taps against the door. He groaned, still suffering from the affliction of his burgeoning erection. 

He called out in a frustrated half-growl as he sat up , “Just a moment!” and hastened to attach his prosthesis. He reached for the closest thing that would cover him up, which ended up being a large dressing gown. He quickly tied it around his waist and hobbled to answer the door. The sight before him nearly took his breath away. Strike was delighted to find the return of “Soft Robin.” She stood before him, hair damp and curled and slightly darker than usual. Her face was fresh and clean with a slight flush to it, and she wore a comfortable dressing gown, not unlike his own. She smelled faintly of lavender. 

She too was taking him in, slowly, hungrily. Her gaze started at his feet and slowly worked its way up his body, as she drank him in. She smiled slightly at the sight of her partner in little more than a dressing gown and her eyes finally met his. 

“Hiya,” she murmured, rather shyly, looking away quickly.

“Hi,” he breathed softly, attempting to keep his eyes fixed on the bridge of her nose, and not anywhere that might be construed as untoward. “Are you alright? It’s late.”

“Or early,” she offered, “You know, depending on what kind of person you are.” 

“I’m a right grumpy bastard who says it’s late,” he teased. 

“I don’t disagree with you,” Robin smiled, biting the corner of her lower lip.

“You want to come in?” 

Her eyes lit up, then dimmed the next moment. “I…” she hesitated.

Strike waited patiently for her to finish. 

Her lips parted and her eyes met his once more, and there was something different within them. They were larger and darker than they’d been before. 

“Yes,” she murmured, nearly breathless.

Strike stepped aside and gestured her in. Once they were both in the cabin and the door was shut, Robin turned to face Cormoran, her cheeks growing hotter and hotter by the minute. “I need to tell you something,” she confessed almost immediately. “Yesterday, at my birthday, before you got there...something happened.”

“Oh...okay…” he responded, confused. “Do you want to tell me what it was?” 

“I...I do and I don’t. It’s embarrassing.”

“You know I’ll never judge you about anything...I will always be on your side.”

“I know, it’s just...this is different. It’s personal.”

“I think we’re beyond being worried about personal things, especially after tonight. Don’t you?” he asked, innocently. 

Robin couldn’t help but grin at the hopeful and encouraging look on her partner’s face. He made her feel safe and she knew without a doubt that she could tell him anything. She steeled herself, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. 

“Before you arrived yesterday, I was a little drunk and was talking with Vanessa and Ilsa. Somehow...it was brought to their attention that I hadn’t...er...been with anyone in a while. I somehow then roped myself into shagging the next available man that walked in.”

Strike’s eyebrows rose in unison, but he remained silent, waiting for her to continue. 

“Anyhow, Nick walked in to see Ilsa and then…”

Strike caught her meaning immediately. “Then I walked in.”

“Yes,” Robin replied, looking to him for a reaction. 

_Silence._

After what seemed like an eternity, Robin could no longer hold back. “Please, say something?” She pleaded. 

He considered her carefully. “Is that what you want, Robin? Is to shag me?”

After thinking of her response, she stepped forward, closer to him. “It’s not _all_ I want,” she whispered, her voice low and husky. 

At her words, Strike felt his manhood betray him as he twitched and ached for her. 

“I don’t want to just shag you,” she continued. “I want to be with you. I want it all with you, if I’m being completely honest. I just wanted you to know...that if anything were to happen between us, it wouldn’t be because of some silly dare. It’s because I want it to happen. I want you, Strike.”

Strike winced at his hardening cock and sat down on the edge of the bed, looking up at her. “Rest assured, that the feeling is completely and utterly mutual, and has been for quite some time.”

Robin smiled wide at his confession, resisting the urge to throw herself at him and kiss him with everything she had. 

“While we’re making confessions, you should know I...I woke up thinking about you.”

“Oh...OH!” she exclaimed in understanding. Strike noticed a pretty pink flush begin to creep up her neck. 

“The same thing happened to me,” she responded, looking down to the floor in embarrassment. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”

At this, Strike reached for her hand and pulled her closer to him. He urged her downward and seized her mouth in his, capturing her in a searing kiss. 

Strike wouldn’t let the moment pass them by. The time had come.


	10. Beauty That Heals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Together at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, folks, we've come to the end of our journey. Thanks to all of you that supported and encouraged this story. This is officially my longest solo work on AO3, and I couldn't be happier. Thanks to my friends in the Denmark Street Discord, who have been such an important part of this fandom.
> 
> Without further ado, the long-awaited, affectionately-termed, "boat smut."
> 
> Until next time!

Robin was taken aback at the urgency with which Strike kissed her, but was not at all put off by it. If anything, she reveled in the hard press of his lips against her own soft ones. The way they moved against her, urging more and more from her until she had little else to give. 

She whimpered beneath his tongue as he plundered her mouth, fervently tasting and _wanting_ her. Robin gasped when he pulled her down on top of him and she awkwardly spread her legs in any direction they would go. Cormoran assisted her with planting her thighs firmly around his own and reached under her dressing gown to grasp her arse appreciatively

The feel of his firm hand gripping her and his hardened length between her legs made her feel strong and in control. She sighed and leaned them back against the covers, momentarily breaking their lip contact to look at him. He gazed back up at her, a mix of adoration and lust crossing his features. Strike reached up and brushed a few wayward strands of hair behind her ear and she shivered at the feel of his fingertips against the skin at her hairline. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered hoarsely, something like tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. “The most beautiful person I’ve ever known.”

At this, Robin straightened up and furrowed her brows, recalling a previous time when Strike had been drunk and admitted the same about his former lover. “You -” she started.

“-I know what I said,” he interrupted. “I was drunk and a fool. I barely knew you and I certainly didn’t know you like this. Sometimes beauty leads to pain and brokenness...but beauty that leads to healing is something I’ve never known before you. You do that for me, Robin. No matter how broken I think I am, you don’t see that. You see the whole me, and that’s the most meaningful thing I’ve ever felt. The most beautiful person I’ve ever known...is you.”

Robin’s features softened at his words, and she leaned back down to kiss him earnestly before pausing and hovering above his face. “That’s the loveliest thing anyone has ever said to me. You have quite the way with words, Mr. Strike,” she teased, wiggling her rear end against his pelvis. 

“ _Fuck,”_ he cursed, wincing at the feel of her warmth grinding against him through the thin veil of whatever undergarment she wore beneath the soft white gown, which was slowly slipping down her shoulders and revealing the creamy swell of her breasts. “Somehow,” he gritted out, “You have the ability to reduce me to very few, very vulgar words. _Chrissst,_ Robin,” he hissed as she continued to press against him. 

“I suppose I could just stop if that’s how you feel about it,” she teased, slowing her movements. 

“Abso _lute_ ly not,” Strike half-pleaded, half-demanded as he grasped her hips and bucked up against her. Despite his protests, Robin did in fact halt her ministrations and looked down at him, her lower lip caught in her teeth. “Will you show me what you were doing before I got here?”

Strike paused and arched an eyebrow at her cheekiness, but was more than happy to oblige her request. “I’ll show you if you show me?” he asked, hopeful. 

“Deal,” she agreed, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips before rolling off of him. 

Strike sat up and removed his dressing gown and threw it on the floor, not caring where it landed. He was left in nothing but his dark-colored boxers, where a noticeable bulge had formed.

She flashed him a wicked grin and followed suit, untying the knot at her waist and allowing her dressing gown to fall beneath her on the bed, all the while watching for Strike’s reaction. Robin wore the smallest, sexiest emerald green nightgown that Strike had ever seen. The shine of the satin contrasted nicely against the backdrop of her creamy shoulders and cleavage. Thin, green straps bled into pale white lace that accentuated her breasts in the most pleasing way. The fabric cascaded over her abdomen to mid-thigh, though Strike was more than pleased to catch sight of a revealing slit on her left thigh that cut all the way up to her hip, showing off the curve of her arse.

“You like?” she asked cheekily. “Max packed it for me…”

“God fucking bless Max,” he responded, reaching out to touch the silky softness of her lingerie. He felt her rib cage contract beneath his touch as she took in a deep, shuddering breath. “Robin…” he hummed as he pulled her closer, nuzzling against the hollow of her neck. “Mmm, my Robin, my _Pettiroso_ …” he murmured against her skin, worshipping her. She smiled at the term of affection as her hands found their way to his scalp and wove through his hair. 

He released a heaving moan as her nails dug into his scalp. His lips found her neck and he kissed his way down her collarbone and her sternum, sweeping away the barely-there straps of her nightgown. 

“Robin, can I…?” he asked, cocking his head to one side in question. 

“Yes. _God,_ Strike. _Yes,”_ she consented. 

He paused and he watched her face and searched her eyes for what, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he wanted to remember this moment for the rest of his life. His sweet, darling Robin, giving herself over to him and trusting him completely. 

“What is it?” she asked, nearly impatient.

He chuckled at her eagerness and placed a kiss against her sternum. “Nothing, I just can’t believe this is happening.” 

“Well right now, it isn’t happening,” Robin whined in frustration, but had a teasing smile on her face.

“Hush, Ellacott. I’m getting there.”

With that, Strike pulled the straps down, down, down, revealing her curvy breasts that molded to his rough-hewn palms. She cried out as his fingers sought to twist and pull at one nipple and his lips suckled and tongue encircled the other. He was gentle, attentive, and thorough. He pulled back to switch and gently laved at the opposite breast, rolling her nipple in his warm mouth. His tongue glided up and over and around, forming a perfectly taut peak. 

When he was satisfied that he’d paid enough attention to her chest, his mouth drifted further downward. After assisting her with removing her nightgown, he kissed his way down her body, her rib cage, her navel, and her hips. When he reached the barely-there triangle of fabric at her pelvis, he looked up at her, cocking an eyebrow in question. She nodded heartily and that was all the sign he needed. He divested her of her lace knickers, pulling them down her thighs and over her calves, tossing them anywhere. 

He laid down on his side, half beside her and half over her, reaching his hand between her legs, stroking gently through the fine, trim hair there. She trembled beneath his touch, whimpering at the feel of his large hand covering her mound, caressing her silken folds, and searching for the one point of pressure that could cause her to break. He brushed against her clit within seconds and encircled it with two fingers, and he felt her relax against him. 

Robin whined as Strike stroked against her, changing directions, movements, and pressure, in search of the perfect combination that would cause her to shatter. She began to grind up against his hand, taking on the fullness of his palm and fingers. Strike’s lips once again found her neck, where his stubble bristled against her sensitive skin and elicited a long, low moan from her that went straight to his cock. He twitched and strained against his boxers and ached as he brushed against her thigh.

Once she felt his hardness against her, Robin’s hand went in search of the source of warmth and solidity. Her fingers played at the waistband of his boxers and Strike groaned at the feel of her fingers brushing the hairy skin of his belly. Her hand deftly slid beneath the waistband and grasped his length, wrapping it in the heat of her soft hand. Strike hissed as Robin’s hand slid against him and she gripped him with a need he never thought he’d feel from her.

His lips moved up her neck, to her cheek, down her jawline, and finally landed on her mouth. She melted even further into the covers beneath them, taking him as he plundered her mouth greedily, tasting and savoring every inch of her tongue. After what seemed like a moment and an eternity, Strike pulled away, his forehead resting against hers as they both attempted to catch their breath. His fingers continued to dance rhythmically at her core, and she maintained a fantastic grip on his cock. 

“That feels so good, Ellacott,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering shut beneath her ministrations. “You feel _so_ good.”

“Cormoran, look at me?” she whispered. His eyes flew open at her command, pupils blown wide with lust, eyes dark and roving over her facial features, wondering which inch of her he should kiss first. _Every fucking inch._

“What is it? You okay?”

“Yeah, don’t stop,” she hummed, closing her eyes only momentarily before she remembered that she’d asked him for eye contact. “Mmm, sorry. I could get lost in the way you feel.”

Cormoran gave a hum of agreement while continuing to circle her clit as Robin opened her legs for him. This gave him better access to her heat. His fingers found their way inside of her, first one, then two entered her slowly, gently. Her chin tilted upward as she pressed her head against the pillow. “Oh, _Cormor’n_ ,” she gasped, his name splintering on her tongue. He swallowed her moans with a searing kiss and moved his thumb toward her clit, all the while his fingers moved inside of her. 

Strike felt Robin’s hand go slack against his cock and knew she was close. He entered a third and final finger inside of her, causing her to cry out against him. Robin felt pressure building and heat spreading within her. Her orgasm overtook her in a slow-motion wave. On a final intake of breath, she clenched around Strike’s fingers, feeling him move deep within her cunt. Her entire lower body rolled as she came. Strike continued to move inside her and against her, only slowing when he felt her legs relax and her breathing slow. A thin sheen of sweat had formed on her face and her hair was sticky with sweat against her forehead.

Strike slowly removed his hand and Robin cried at the loss of fullness.

“Fuck, you’re _so_ wet, Robin,” he murmured, wiping his hand against his boxers and bringing it up to her face to swipe the hair off of her skin. She nodded to him in thanks and he kissed her chastely on the lips. “How was that?” He asked, looking down at her with reverence. 

“C’mere, you,” she responded, as she raised her hand behind his head and pulled him down for another kiss. “That a good enough answer?” she asked breathlessly against his lips. He smiled and nodded, kissing her once more before pushing himself onto his back. “If we’re going to continue…” he trailed off, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. 

“We are…” she responded, giggling slightly. 

“Good. But this leg’s got to go.” He quickly slipped off his prosthesis and set it beside the bed before laying back down and rolling over to face her. 

“I think these need to go too,” Robin murmured, pulling gently at his boxers. Strike willingly obliged and slid his underwear over his arse and down his legs before discarding them over the side of the bed. 

“That better?” He asked, turning to face her once more. 

“Loads,” she giggled and snuggled closer to him. Her hand wandered down the front of him and to his cock as she gripped him once more. Her fist closed over his length and she pumped him slowly, but expertly. So much so that he nearly lost control right there in her hand. As if she understood how close he was, Robin pulled her hand away and released him. “I believe you were going to show me…” she murmured. 

“Mmm, for a moment. I don't know how much more I can take without being inside you. Let me watch you too.” 

Strike took his swollen member in hand and began to stroke himself in a steady rhythm, as he had before Robin had knocked on his cabin door. This time was different. This time he could smell her arousal, could feel her soft form against him, and could hear the low moans she made as she touched herself beside him. 

He almost couldn't stop for how good it all felt, but he knew that this was nothing, compared to what awaited him. Nevertheless, Strike brought himself to the brink, crying out to Robin as he felt a tingling at the base of his spine. She placed a hand over his and he slowed his ministrations.

Her eyes were so clear and so wanting and at that moment, she could have had him on his knees, ready to give her anything she asked. “What is it?” He whispered, waiting for her to make her request. 

Robin whispered, biting her lower lip. “Condom. Nightstand,” she bit out and Strike turned and reached for the small foil packet beside the bed. After fumbling with it for a moment, he rolled the condom over his considerable length and turned back over to face her. 

“I want you,” she pleaded.

Her wish was his command. “Show me,” he replied, his voice low and husky. 

Robin reached for his shoulders and pulled him to roll over top of her, opening her legs for him. Strike sighed against her skin as his cock lined perfectly against her hot, wet slit. His face nuzzled into her neck, whispering into her ear. “I’ve waited for you for so long…” his voice trailed, as he began to undulate his hips against her folds, reveling in the warmth and slickness he found there. “You’re so perfect. My Robin.” 

With Strike’s hardness against her, she was ready to give herself over to him completely. She wrapped one arm under his, her nails scraping against the muscles on his back, causing him to growl against her skin. The opposite hand found its way to his hair, which she pulled and grasped at as he rocked against her.

At the same moment, neither could take the wait any longer. Robin choked out a sobbed “Now...please…” and Strike wasted no time. He pulled back once more to align himself to her cunt and slowly entered her, feeling her expand to accommodate his cock. It was all he could do not to cry out in ecstasy. She was so tight around him. They fit together more perfectly than either of them ever could have imagined. 

Robin kissed him fiercely as he continued to pulse within her, his cock throbbing. Friction continued to build between them and Robin’s face pulled into the perfect “O” shape. “Just like _that_ ,” she hissed, once Strike had finally found the perfect spot. He slowed and fucked into her, delivering delicious torture that made her inner walls flutter against him. 

He could tell she was close, her face screwed up in concentration, sweat forming on her brow. She opened her eyes to look at him, silently pleading for him to bring her over the edge. “What do you need?” he murmured, as if reading her mind. 

“More…clit…” she grit out, gesturing downward with her eyes before squeezing them shut once more. 

Strike chuckled and kissed her nose, sitting up at an angle. Robin’s legs pressed around his hips, her heels digging into his taut arse, desperate to take him as deep as physically possible. With the little bit of space that remained between them, Strike pushed himself up onto one arm and sought her clit with the opposite hand. As soon as his thumb made contact, Robin tightened against his cock and bucked her hips forward. “Corm...I...I'm gon…” she couldn't find the words to continue, but he knew. He simply nodded. 

“That's my girl, let me see you come for me,” he encouraged. After several circular movements to her clit and a series of low moans, Strike felt the dam break as Robin came. She called his name as she rutted against his waiting cock and Strike pushed into her, giving her the fullness he knew she needed. 

She was so wet for him, and the sounds of his cock moving within her soaked cunt only spurned him on. He saw her through her orgasm that left her trembling and sighing. The moment her convulsing ceased, Strike leaned back and grasped her hips gently and pressed forward, looking down at her sweetly undone expression, her kissed-red lips, and her flushed cheeks. He felt a sense of pride ripple through him that he'd done this for her, and that they'd done this together. With that, he pressed himself down against her and came with a string of curses and her name on his tongue, while she tiredly murmured encouragement in his ear. He emptied himself within her and collapsed, catching his breath afterward.

Strike slowly pulled out of her and dealt with his condom, tossing it in the bin closest to the bed. He was more than pleased to find Robin reaching for him. He took her in his arms and held her. They were quiet for a long time, so much so that Strike thought she'd gone to sleep. Then he heard her whisper against his hirsute chest, “Thank you.”

He pulled away and looked down at her, “For what?” He asked, a quizzical look on his face.

“For everything that's led us to this point. For taking a chance on me, for teaching me, for waiting for me to come to my senses.”

“I could say the same. But you know, it really isn't me you should be thanking.”

“Oh?” She questioned, it was her turn to be confused. 

“Yes, it seems that Vanessa really pushed you to go for it,” he chuckled, kissing the top of her head.

“It seems that we'll both need to thank her for that,” Robin mused.

Strike agreed. “I suppose you're right. We'll send her some wine.”

“You know what I wagered, right?”

Strike raised an eyebrow in surprise. “There was a wager at stake?”

“Mhmm. What's a true dare without a wager?”

“I don't know, how about you enlighten me?”

“Told her if I did it, she had to give us one free piece of info for a case!” Robin informed him, grinning in triumph.

Strike laughed heartily, his belly moving against her skin as she smiled. He kissed her soundly and snuggled her close. “That's my girl. Looks like you won on both counts in the end.”

“I sure did…” She smiled, kissing him once more. “Cormoran,” she hesitated. “What happens now?”

“Now?”

Robin hummed in confirmation.

“Now, we get a few hours of sleep, have a hearty breakfast, and then I take you back to my flat, and make love to you for the rest of the day. How's that sound?”

“Sounds perfect...but I mean…”

“I know what you mean. You mean what happens after? Honestly, whatever you want to happen...I just hope that includes us running the agency together for a long, long time.”

She snuggled against his chest and closed her eyes. “Me too…” She murmured. Sated, warm, and happy, they both fell asleep to the sound of waves lapping against the boat. 

A few short hours later, as the sun rose, they were wrapped in each other, lazily kissing and whispering, as if they'd done so for their entire lives. What had started out as a silly dare had led to the most meaningful moment of their entire lives, and they were ready to take on whatever lay before them, together. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr @hidetheteaspoons or @thegreendress!


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